


Oh My God They Were Quarantined

by Tutselutse



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Also they play Go Fish at one point, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Drinking, Emma and Zoey enjoy their mutual dislike, F/M, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Making Out, Paul is an Awkward King, Paulkins - Freeform, Pining, Quarantined Together, Seriously there is so much making out, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 43,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tutselutse/pseuds/Tutselutse
Summary: If the universe is infinite, then it's definite there is an alternate reality....... where Paul and Emma are stuck together because of COVID-19.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 136
Kudos: 161





	1. Welcome to Beanie's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I wrote a Paulkins quarantine fic instead of working on my WIPs. This is who I am now...

Emma was wiping some of the tables in the back, keeping her eye on the door, if any last minute coffee drinkers should show up. She was alone at work, closing up the place in about half an hour's time. There hadn't been many customers the past week, because people had been worried about the corona virus. Zoey was so worried about her stupid voice, she had called in sick, even though Emma _knew_ she wasn't even sick yet.

The sound of someone opening the door pulled her from her zoned out wiping, and she took the cloth with her as she returned to the counter. Two men were standing in line. The first one was wearing a trench coat and was watching her with an impatient look.

"Welcome to Beanie's," Emma attempted a customer service smile.

"Can a get two flat white's to go?" the man ordered, looking down at his phone. Emma placed the cloth in the small sink and washed her hands before getting started on the coffee. "Didn't you have a _tip for a song_ sign yesterday?" The guy asked, looking up at her.

"Nope," Emma lied. The sign had been hiding in the break room from the moment Nora left her alone today.

"Huh," the guy grunted. Emma noticed he didn't tip her. _Asshole_. She handed him the two coffees and smiled wide and fake.

"Have a great evening," she said. He eyed her hands cautiously before taking the coffees. Her phone rang suddenly. Woops. "One sec," Emma said, looking down. She pulled out the phone, to see Nora was calling. "It's my boss, sorry," she said without looking at the other customer, accepting the call and turning around.

"Emma, did you close up the shop?" Nora asked impatiently.

" _Hello Nora_ ," Emma said, rolling her eyes, "no, but I will in twenty minutes." Honestly, did Nora forget their closing time?

"Emma! Didn't you see the news? The town is in quarantine. You have to stay indoors where you are." Nora sounded very tired, like she was berating a child.

" _What?!"_ she answered. _Shit._

"Yeah, the mayor has asked us all to stay inside because of the virus. Everything is shut down for now."

"I'm still at Beanie's," Emma said lamely.

"Guess you will have to stay there until further notice. I'll call you if we hear more."

"Uh, thanks... I think."

"Don't touch things!" Nora said sternly just as Emma ended the call. She looked at her screen and yes, 40 minutes ago there had been a breaking news notification.

 _Hatchetfield on lockdown. Remain indoors until further notice! Mayor calls for quarantine in COVID-19 crisis_.

Fuck.

It was _so_ typical the Mayor to go from 0 to 100 on the freak-out scale. Emma turned around and almost jumped. She had completely forgotten the customer. He was watching her with a nervous smile and wide blue eyes. She recognized him after a second. He was one of the regulars, he always tipped her and made awkward but kind attempts at small talk. "The whole town is in quarantine," Emma told him, no emotions in her tone. His eyes widened to an almost comical state.

"Uh, what?" he asked, clearing his throat. He looked like he wasn't able to compute the information. Emma walked out from behind the counter, and towards the window. The shops across the street were dark, except two. The guy followed her, and just as he stood next to her, one of the two also turned dark.

"We have to stay indoors," Emma said, not turning to look at him.

"Oh," he said. "Wait, what?"

"It's on the news," Emma said, opening her phone and showing him the screen

" _Fuck_ ," he groaned, and pulled out his own phone. "I had it on silent while working late. Forgot to turn it back on."

"I also missed the news," she sighed, putting her phone back.

"Do we have to stay here?" he asked, looking at her like she had all the answers.

"Fuck do I know?" Emma shrugged. "Guess you can leave like that other customer. My boss told me I had to stay. Gotta love the fact that he needed flat white for his fucking quarantine."

This made him do a strangled laughing noise. "Yeah. If he hadn't, I would have bought my coffee and left none the wiser."

"Sucks for you," Emma said dryly, giving him a challenging look.

"Yeah," he said, looking nervous all of a sudden.

"You can leave if you want." Emma said after a moment, "I'm not gonna tell anyone."

"Right, yes," he stuttered, "Uh." Emma nodded at him in encouragement and walked over to the counter. She began counting the money for the day and closing up. She heard the door close and sighed. What the fuck was she going to do stuck at Beanie's? Aside from eat everything of course.

The door opened again, and the guy was back, looking flustered. "Uh, I walked straight into a cop, and he told me to go back inside." He had his hands in his pockets and looked at her like he was waiting for something.

"Well shit," Emma commented, closing the cash register with her hip. She smiled sickly sweet and fake "Welcome to Beanie's."

"Thanks," he said with a light chuckle, taking a few steps inside. He looked around, clearly not sure what to do with himself. "This could be for the better. I mean, it might be irresponsible to leave you here alone. If you're sick. Or, even if you're not, it might-" his voice was trailing off slightly, "it might get boring."

Emma eyed him with amusement. Watching this awkward noodle attempt to talk to her was one of her daily highlights. "You're hoping I'll give you free coffee and stale croissants, right?" she teased.

"You caught me," he laughed, raising his hands in defeat. Emma laughed, crinkling her nose. He smiled, seemingly satisfied with making her laugh.

"What's your coffee order? I'll bring it right up," she offered, gesturing to the tables for him to take a seat.

"An easy one, just a black coffee," he said. Emma pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at him. He practically always told her it was an easy order.

"How boring," Emma commented. She poured him a cup of coffee, and then made herself a ridiculously sweet latte, with syrup and whipped cream. He eyed her with amusement when she carried the two mugs and a plate with two croissants over to him. He was seated near the counter, still wearing his suit jacket over his white shirt.

"Thanks," he smiled, and his fingers brushed hers as he took the cup.

"You're one of the regulars, right? What's your name?" she asked.

"Paul," he said.

"Hi Paul, I'm Emma," she answered, removing her apron and sitting down. She pulled out her phone again. There was a text from Zoey, saying _just heard you're stuck at beanie's :/ hope you don't die of boredom_. There was also a text from Tom, telling her that he and Tim where okay at home.

After telling Tom she was okay, but stuck at work, she texted Zoey that she wasn't alone, because one of the regulars had volunteered to be stuck with her. Then struck her that being alone with a strange man probably wasn't a wise move. She glanced up at Paul, who was also texting someone. He was almost twice her height, but he seemed more gangly than beefy under his suit. She wasn't sure what it was, but everything about him just seemed _harmless_. He took a bite from one of the croissants and several flakes fell down on the table. Emma smiled to herself.

"Dude, I just wiped this table down," she said, pretending to be offended.

He looked up and down between her and the flakes a couple of times, before realizing she was joking. Then he grinned. "My apologies," he said. Emma took it as a good sign that he could take the shit she threw his way.

"Don't let it happen again," she said, taking the other croissant and messily taking a bite.

"Yes ma'am," Paul said.

* * *

The first hour and a half passed with polite small talk and stretches of silence where they were on their phones. Emma was suspecting he was texting people, but she was mostly looking for updates on the quarantine and when she found none, she had played games on her phone. Tom wasn't much of a texter and she didn't really want to talk to Zoey more than necessary. So far she had learned the normal stuff about Paul. He worked at a big company, doing statistical analysis, since he was good at math. She had told him about studying botany, but not about why.

Emma's sugar high was wearing down, and she was getting hungry. "I would kill for a pizza right now," she said dramatically. Paul looked at her, grinned, and then scooted his chair backwards away from her, grimacing like he was scared.

"Fuck you!" Emma said, and threw a napkin at him.

"Some actual food would be nice," Paul said.

"I'll scavenge the break room," Emma said, getting up. Paul followed her, looming awkwardly in the door, like he was afraid of walking inside. She decided not to make fun of him for it. She found it oddly endearing, how he was respecting normal society rules for customers even though it was basically the end of the world.

She found bag of chips, some frozen bagels and a jar of peanut butter and a plastic container filled with peeled and neatly chopped carrot sticks in the fridge. Paul made a sound behind her, like he was suppressing a laugh. "This is where the tip sign went," he said, pointing to the little bit of cardboard on the table, "Did you hide it?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny that," she said, grabbing all the food and closing the fridge with a hip bump. Paul grinned, like they were sharing a secret. It was kind of sweet. That seemed to be his whole shtick, sweet and polite, with a dazzle of humor on top. "You must be happy, you never want me to sing."

"Yeah, uh," he said, leaning against the doorframe, watching her as she started to defrost some bagels in the microwave. "I don't like musicals. Watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable."

Emma frowned in confusion, leaning against the small kitchenette counter and looking at him, while the microwave noisily started up. "Why do you go to the singing coffee shop? There's a Starbucks nearby."

She hadn't meant anything with the question, just plain surprise that he kept coming here if he didn't like singing, but his response was strange. He shifted his stance, and his ears got a little red. "Some things are worth it," he said, his tone soft. Then, his eyes widened slightly and he added: "Like, damn good coffee."

"Right," Emma sent him an easy smile and a thumbs up. If she hadn't been super hungry, she would have poked fun at him, or maybe asked more questions, to see if he would start sweating. However, since she didn't know how long they would have to be stuck together, it would really suck if things got awkward. She filed the information in the back of her head for later use. "Let's eat."

They found plastic plates and knifes in the cupboard (" _Fuck the enviroment, we're all dying of a virus now"_ ) and sat back down at their table. Emma took a picture of the carrot sticks and sent to Zoey with a _thanks for dinner ;)_ written on it.

She learned another little detail about Paul, this one based on observation. He liked to carefully scrape his peanut butter so it covered the whole surface. It was something she never had the patience for, and he wrinkled his nose when he saw her scoop it over and not bother to smear it out. "I didn't know you were such an animal," he commented.

"You've seen me make coffee at many occasions now," Emma countered.

"That's true," he answered, nodding thoughtfully. He nibbled on a carrot stick and Emma watched him. There was something calming about how normal and sweet he was. He probably folded his socks and put his newly washed laundry away right after it was dry, instead of leaving it on a chair for two weeks. He looked at her, meeting her gaze and smiling. His eyes were so blue, it was quite impressive.

"I'm gonna make another disgustingly sweet coffee. Do you want some more _damn good coffee?_ " she asked, unable to stop herself from teasing him a little. He nodded, and looked down awkwardly. _Cute_ , Emma thought, and returned to the coffee machine.

Looking back at most of her interactions with him since he started going to Beanie's, it seemed kind of obvious why he came by. She looked at the coffee and almost snorted. It definitely wasn't their shit coffee, which in no way deserved praise anywhere near _damn good_. Maybe _tolerable_ , if you were being kind, and they had cleaned the grinder recently.

She had a text from Zoey, saying _my carrots!! :(_ and then another one saying _can u take a sneaky picture of the customer ur stuck with??_

Emma's first instinct was to say no, because it was rude to Paul. Then she figured if he was going to murder her, Zoey would have evidence. She started the coffee machine, and then turned around and took a photo. She managed to get him just as he looked up at the counter, so most of his face was visible.

Not long after Zoey texted back _ooh! I remember him! He looks bummed when I'm at work alone ;))_ A second later she sent another _Pls tell me if u bang him in the break room i promise i won't tell nora_. Then followed a text with the eggplant emoji, the splashing water emoji, the peach and the coffee cup.

To be fair, Emma was sure Zoey wouldn't tell Nora. While they didn't like each other much, they had a unique camaraderie solely based on spitting in the coffee. Neither of them would ever tell Nora. Emma texted back _shut up Z im not having quarantine sex._

_You're so boring. I can recommend it ;))) ;))_

Zoey was a pretentious asshole, and annoyingly Nora's favorite, but Emma still found it sort of reassuring Zoey was keeping a bit in touch and making sure she wasn't dying. Not like Nora who hadn't texted her at all. Plus, Zoey mentioning Paul looking bummed when Emma wasn't at work seemed to solidify her theory. Paul seemed to have a small to medium crush on her. Which she had no idea how to deal with, especially under these circumstances. _Guess we'll ignore that, then_.

She brought the coffees over to him, holding the canister with whipped cream under her arm. She put more on her coffee and then also on her remaining bagel.

"Gross," Paul said.

"Paul, haven't you noticed by now? I am gross as hell," Emma said, before taking a bite.

* * *

The next hour passed with her trying to convince him to eat whipped cream on first his bagel, then a carrot or in his cooling coffee. She failed, and ended up smearing a bit on his face as she tried to get him to eat the carrot. She had apologized for being weird, as he wiped his face with a napkin, and he had grinned and taken a bite of the carrot. Emma had laughed way too hard and triumphantly at the sight.

They snacked the chips in silence. There was more fiddling on their phones, and then Emma put hers in her charger in the break room. She sent herself from two months ago a thank you, for buying an extra charger to keep at work. Inside the break room she snooped around some more. There was a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels left, and a six pack of beers. They were room temperature of course, so she put it all in the fridge. She found a deck of cards as well, which she out in her pocket, and two cans of Pepsi, which joined the beer and booze in the fridge.

She made Paul sit on the floor next to the counter and play _Go Fish_ with her. Watching him sit down and cross his long legs had been amusing. There was something pleasant about playing this silly game, and telling the other to _fuck off_ whenever a card was being handed over. It was completely dark outside by now, making it seem like they were far away from the rest of the world. Emma usually hauled ass home after closing, so she wasn't used to seeing Beanie's like this.

Paul got this satisfied smirk on his lips whenever he told her to go fish, and to her dread, it made her feel a little warm inside. She didn't do normal, she didn't do _nice._ On the rare occasions she had a hookup, she usually went for those asshole-y "finding themselves" dudes, because she knew it wouldn't last. Since she moved back home she hadn't really gotten involved with anyone. Paul practically reeked of stability and comfort and the type of boring life Jane always had wanted. Emma was certain a man like Paul would break if he was around her for too long. She fucked up good shit and left it broken and chaotic.

Normally this type of guy didn't even attract her. Whenever a man like this showed interest, and she saw the picket fence and family get-togethers in the future, she would get nauseated. So why was Paul, his dopey grin and baby blue eyes not scaring her?

"All your queens," he said, eyeing her playfully, like he _knew_ she had just gotten her third queen on hand.

"Oh, you can go and _fuck yourself!_ " she said, handing over the cards. "Seriously, the restroom is right there. I'll wait."

"You a sore loser, Emma?" he asked smugly. This playful confidence was annoyingly attractive, that was for sure. She compared it to his more nervous, dorky behavior earlier, hoping to find that it was still douchebag behavior she liked. Her stomach did a weird almost-flip as she recalled his words. _Some things are worth it_. Fuck, his dorky nervousness was also cute. This quarantine shit was fucking with her head.

"I'm a worse winner, so you're in for good company no matter what," she joked. He smiled, crinkling his eyes slightly as he looked at her. It felt nice to be looked at like that. She had to stop it. "It's still your turn."

"Right," he said, looking down at his cards.

* * *

"Here," Emma said, placing the beers in front of him. After their card game, she had cleaned up a few things and checked on her phone, needing a moment alone to gather her thoughts. It was almost nine o'clock by now. There had been no real updates, except people complaining about possibly running out of food. Being stuck here was somewhat better than her crappy apartment and the two packs of ramen she had left.

Tom had answered her, giving an update on how Tim was holding up. She had stared at the short text, feeling so utterly terrible about the two of them alone without Jane. _She_ would have made up fun games and have had the freezer full of food. Tim wouldn't have been worried and Tom would have relaxed, because Jane knew her shit, and then he wouldn't make his son more nervous, like Emma was certain he was doing now.

This helped her with the sudden Attracted To Paul thing. Thinking about Jane and coming back to this town and her nephew. She was here with a purpose, to honor Jane. Not to mess with the lives of ordinary men like Paul. However, she still desperately needed a beer.

So there they were, sitting with their backs against the counter, both sipping from beers Emma was convinced Zoey had left in the cupboard ages ago. She had positioned herself so she didn't have to stare into those blue _blue_ eyes more than necessary.

"Y'know," Emma started, "this would be a fucking weird way to die."

"From the corona virus?"

"No, from starvation in fucking Beanie's," she said and took a big gulp of beer.

"If I die first, I consent to you eating me," Paul said in a complete deadpan voice.

"Thank you," Emma replied, and she took the chance to look at him. She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Oh, okay, you're not gonna say it back, huh?" his tone was a little scandalized and Emma just grinned wider. "I can't believe you, Emma."

"You are definitely going to die first, so there is no reason for me to say it," she replied and shrugged, "I definitely have more fat stored on my body." He actually blushed at that comment. She decided she was okay with him having noticed her bod. There was stuff to notice, she couldn't blame him.

They were on their second beer when Emma decided they should play never have I ever. She was getting a little bored and the alcohol was tempting her to play with fire a little.

"Never have I ever washed my hands for less than 20 seconds," Paul started. Emma threw him an very disbelieving look.

"That's a _lie_ ," she insisted, "I refuse to believe you didn't attempt to skip handwashing as a kid."

"Can I add as an adult then?" he asked.

"Nope, but you can drink with me as punishment," she said, smiling cheekily. They both lifted their beers and took a sip. Emma watched him for a moment. "Never have I ever... graduated college."

"Oh this is how we're playing?" he asked, before drinking. "Never have I ever failed a class."

"Fuck you," Emma replied, before gulping down beer. She thought about it for a moment before taking her turn. "Never have I ever thrown up while drunk."

"Impressive!" Paul said, eyeing her a little before taking his sip. It was something she used to be quite proud of. Despite her size she could handle herself pretty well when drinking. He seemed deep in thought. "Never have I ever been to a strip club."

Emma was glad she didn't have beer in her mouth, because she would have sprayed it everywhere. "You haven't?!" she asked, in disbelief.

"My coworker Ted has asked me a couple of times, but I am very content with having said no every time." he answered nonchalantly, "but I'm guessing you have to drink."

"Fuck yeah," she said, taking a big sip, "Went to several in Guatemala."

"When were you in Guatemala?" he asked, looking curious.

"After dropping out of college," she answered, drinking a bit more, "I went backpacking. For years."

"Sounds cool," Paul said. Emma nodded. Talking about leaving was very close to talking about Jane, and she never wanted to talk about Jane.

"Never have I ever-" she started, watching Paul's kind eyes and slightly messy blond hair, "dated someone for longer than three months." To her surprise he didn't drink. He seemed like the type who had a high school sweetheart and tried to make it work long distance through college, only for it to fall apart. Probably because the girl had met some asshole poetry writer who thought he was a coffee expert. This wasn't the case. _Interesting_.

"Do you have to drink if you say something I also haven't done?" he asked, looking way too smug.

"Watch yourself there, dude," she warned, even though she couldn't help but smile, "but fine!" She drank more beer, almost emptying the can. She almost asked him what was wrong with him since he hadn't dated someone for long, but she held her tongue.

"Never have I ever wanted to leave Hatchetfield," he said. Emma emptied her beer and opened another, taking a big sip of that as well.

"That's how much I wanted to leave," she joked, making Paul chuckle. "Wait, we're the same age, how come I didn't know you in high school?"

"You probably went to Hatchetfield High? I went to Sycamore," he said.

"Fucking Timberwolves!" Emma shoved his arm, "we hated you guys!"

"We hated ourselves," he joked, and it made her laugh hard. He laughed along, looking pretty pleased with himself. Emma shoved him again. She was feeling a good buzz by now. Paul's cheeks were getting redder, and she wondered if it was only the alcohol.

"I guess that means we could have attended the same parties without knowing," she mused, sipping more beer.

"I guess, although I didn't get invited to all the cool kid parties," Paul shrugged and emptied his beer. He grabbed his last one and opened it.

"I definitely did," Emma smirked, "but a lot of them sucked, so you didn't miss much." Paul shrugged again like he didn't believe her. "Too bad you weren't there though. Could have been fun to know you back then." _Why did you say that?_

"I probably would have been scared to talk to you," he said, tapping on the beer can. "I wasn't good at talking to girls. Sometimes I still am."

"Pfffh," Emma said, brushing it off, "drink your beer and stop moping."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and there was this gleam in his eyes that made her look away. She checked her phone. There was a text from Zoey. _Did you fuck him yet?_

Emma ignored it, and put her phone back down. This whole situation was so strange. She was stuck with him for who knew how long, and she didn't even mind much. Even though they didn't know each other, it was easy enough to talk and laugh. She was sure it couldn't last the whole quarantine. Things had to get awkward or strained at some point.

"There is still no news about how long we're stuck," Paul said.

"You getting bored being stuck with me?" Emma teased.

"No, not at all," he replied, and it was just earnest and sweet and - _fuck_ , she had to confront him about the crush, didn't she?

"Likewise," she said instead, like a fucking coward. "I'm gonna finish this beer and then I'm getting the cheap whiskey. You in?"

"Why not?" Paul shrugged, looking a little surprised. Emma chugged down the beer, feeling a little restless and angry that she was sitting there, looking at this _normal fucking guy_ and not knowing how to act. Because she was having these weird ass feelings of attraction, but acting on them made no sense, given their current situation _and_ because he would be sad when she didn't want more afterwards.

It kind of bothered her, how much she seemed to care about ending up hurting him. What was that about? It seemed _important_ somehow. What was this quarantine and this man doing to her?

She mixed Pepsi and whiskey in two large to-go cups and brought them over to Paul. Their fingers brushed together again, and this time it left tingles on her skin. How had she not noticed this earlier? Was she getting Stockholm Syndrome or some shit?

"Is it bad that I just wanna get super drunk right now?" Emma asked.

"You're probably not the only one coping like this," Paul answered, before taking a sip of the drink. He cleared his throat. "It's, uh, it's a bit strong."

Emma just smiled wickedly, not sure what else to say. She sipped her own. It wasn't even that strong. "You a lightweight, Paul?" she asked.

"I mean..." he paused, looking at her through his lashes, "maybe?"

"I'll make the next one weaker then," she promised. He nodded in thanks. The silence stretched out between them, stealing minute after minute. There was nothing but the buzz from the fridge, and the occasional sound of Paul tapping absentmindedly on his cup. At one point he stretched out his long legs and slumped against the counter.

It was surprisingly pleasant to be quiet for a moment. There were no sounds coming from the outside, and Emma sighed and took another sip, looking out the window. She should probably turn of some of the lights in here, but she didn't want to move away and make noises. If she had known him better, if they were friends, she might have scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. She remained where she was though, not breaking the moment.

The stretch of silence continued. Emma finished her drink, putting the cup down on the floor. Her head was getting woozy in the best way. The absurdity of what was happening to them was slowly getting funny. Paul put his cup down, shuddered a little and sighed. "I fucking hate Pepsi." he declared. Emma began laughing. It bubbled out of her uncontrollably, only getting worse when she saw the surprised look on Paul's face. He chuckled a little, still mostly confused.

"What the fuck is even happening?" she asked when her laughter died down, "Paul, this is so ridiculous. We're stuck _at Beanie's._ We don't even know each other and yet here we are, getting drunk, where _I work_! What the fuck?"

"It could be worse, we could be stuck in Clivesdale," Paul joked, and Emma laughed again.

" _Fuck_ Clivesdale!" she said.

"This isn't what I thought my day would be like when I got up this morning," Paul said, looking at her, "but it's not so bad, the end of the world considered." _Ah, fuck_.

"Listen, Paul-" she started, but was interrupted when his phone rang. _Crap_. Was the universe trying to tell her that she shouldn't confront him about the crush? Because a) she wasn't even sure what she was going to say and b) the universe could go fuck itself!

Paul talked reassuringly on the phone, clearly trying to calm someone down. Emma looked at his empty cup, and decided to get them more drinks. She got the remaining Pepsi out, and the whiskey. She placed both back where they were sitting. Paul sounded like he was ending the call, and smiled at her as she sat down.

"More alchohol?" he asked after putting his phone down.

"Yep," Emma said, crossing her legs, "this time you get to choose whether you want Pepsi in it or not."

"Thank you," Paul said, "sorry about before. My coworker Charlotte is worried about her husband, because he isn't home with her."

"Oh, that sucks," Emma said, "Did you calm her down?"

"A little, I hope. She's a bit of a worrier to be honest," Paul said. He poured himself a bit of whiskey, ignoring the Pepsi. Emma smiled to herself. ´"You were saying something earlier?"

"I forgot," she lied. _Fuck_. This was stupid, right? Why couldn't she just say something about it? Get it out there, so things were clear. She poured herself a generous amount of whiskey and Pepsi. "Can you believe my boss hasn't been in touch since she called me hours ago?"

"Really?" Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"My super annoying coworker Zoey has, but not Nora. She really sucks," Emma explained.

"Wait, who sucks?" he looked confused.

"Technically both of them," Emma said. She took a sip of her drink. " _Zoooeeee_ y is kind of my manager, even though she's ten years younger than me. Nora loves her, and it fucking sucks."

"Fuck them," Paul said, lifting his cup. He gently bumped it against Emma's.

"Yeah, fuck them," Emma agreed and drank greedily.

* * *

At some point Paul suggested they should get some sleep, and Emma supposed he had a point. They made "beds" from the few pillows around in the seating area. Emma insisted Paul got most of the pillows, since she was used to sleeping on harder surfaces from her backpacking days. She put down a lot of extra aprons as a sad replica of a mattress and wrapped her jacket over her shoulders.

She didn't sleep much the first hour or two. She kept waking up, confused by her surroundings. However, the slow breathing from Paul was kind of reassuring, knowing someone else was nearby actually calmed her down. She matched her breathing with his, and closed her eyes again.

Sunlight woke her up. The coffee shop was slowly filling up with soft orange and pink light from the sunrise. She felt woozy and tired and her mouth tasted like death. The sound of someone moving around caught her attention, and she glanced up. Paul was walking around, quietly cleaning their things up from last night. He was a little blurry, so she blinked, clearing her vision. His hair was messy on one side, from sleeping on it. He had removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves.

Emma started to sit up, and noticed that she was covered in more than her own jacket. Her heart thumped a little harder. She wondered when he had placed his jacket over her. She also wondered if it would be too weird to smell it.

She looked back over at Paul, who was behind the counter, cleaning things up. The rolled up sleeves made him look at ease and less like a corporate machine. She liked it. It made her wonder what he looked like at home, after a long day. He finally noticed she was awake, looking up at her and smiling nervously. Emma's stomach flipped. _Gross_ , why was she like this?

"You're awake," he said.

"So are you," she replied, smiling weakly.

"Woke up half an hour ago, and couldn't fall back to sleep. Decided to clean up a bit," he explained, gesturing vaguely with his long arms.

"That's very sweet," she said earnestly. She got up, and walked over to him, rubbing her eyes. "Want some coffee? Or maybe some tea?"

"Coffee, but you don't have to make it just because you work here," he said, taking a step towards the coffee machine. Emma shushed him, rolling her eyes.

"Nora would probably be mad, if I told her someone else made coffee in here," she said. She brushed past him, perhaps a little closer than needed. She made them both black coffee this time, only adding a little bit of milk to her own. She could feel Paul watch her, and it made the skin on her neck prickle a little bit.

They sat down on Paul's pillow bed, and Emma handed him his cup. Their arms were touching, as they sat in silence and looked outside. The sunlight was still orange and pink, but with hints of yellow and gold now. It was beautiful and surreal. They had been trapped together in less than 12 hours by now, and yet everything seemed different. In a way, no other people existed, it was just them, sitting together.

"I'm so rarely awake to enjoy the sunrise," Emma said, cradling her cup and enjoying the heat against her palms.

"It's been a while for me too," Paul said. He lifted his cup with both hand and sipped from his coffee. Emma watched the way the sunlight hit his eyelashes as he blinked. She watched the way his Adam's apple bopped slightly as he drank the coffee. Before her tired brain could process what she was doing, she leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder.

He stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised by her action. Then, she could feel him take a deep breath and relax his muscles a little. He moved a little, so she was more comfortable. "It's beautiful outside," he said after a moment.

"Yeah," Emma agreed. She lifted her head slightly to take a sip of coffee, but then she rested against him again. He was warm, and he smelled nice. Huh, you'd think they would both be gross by now. Emma vaguely remembered something about pheromones and attraction via scent, but she was too tired to recall exactly what it was. 

She looked down and watched his hands tighten around his coffee mug. His thumb was slowly tapping on the edge. Was she sending him wrong signals? Was it wrong to want some human contact? What were the rules in this newly formed relation they had? It seemed like she was making rules for herself and breaking them again over and over...

She closed her eyes and sighed. She was tired, and she could already tell there was a headache on the way. She wondered if she could fall asleep like this. Paul was so nice, he'd probably let her

"I'm tired," she mumbled, scooting a little closer, and putting more of her weight on him.

"Me too," Paul said, but his slightly quickened pulse told her he was lying. The pull of sleep was getting to her, and she put her cup down on the floor, ready to doze off. The sound of a phone ringing woke her up and she sat up in surprise, looking around her. _Shit_. She rushed over to her bed, picking up her phone and accepting the call. _Fucking Nora, huh?_.

"Hey," Emma said, cringing a little at how hoarse she was.

"If you haven't left Beanie's yet, I have a few requests, since I don't know when we can open again," Nora started.

"We're not allowed to leave," Emma reminded her, a little confused.

"Emma, didn't you see the news," Nora asked impatiently," honestly, how do you miss these things?"

"What happened? I was sleeping," Emma tried defending herself, getting a little angry. At least that woke her up.

"The mayor said anyone not at home were allowed to leave and go home. The government is going to decide what to do moving forward."

"Oh thank God! Thanks!" Emma said, "what do you need me to do?"

After listening to all Nora's many _many_ instructions, Emma put the phone down and looked over at Paul. He looked at her expectantly. "What's up?"

"We can go back to our homes and stay quarantined there. My boss had a _lot_ she wanted me to do before I leave," she explained.

"I'll help," Paul said, standing up.

"Thank you!" Emma said. Together they got started on packing all the food away and washing down everything. It was practical to have Paul around, since he could reach the top shelves. It didn't take them too long to get everything done, and Emma was very grateful for the help. The last thing she did was lock the money in the safe, and lock the cupboard where the safe was. Paul had put on his jacket again, and was waiting for her by the door. They walked outside, and Emma sighed deeply as the cool, fresh air hit her face. She loved the fresh morning air and took a few deep breath, savoring the feeling.

"Do you have a car?" Emma asked while locking the front door.

"Not here," he said.

"Want me to drive you home? It's the least I can do," she offered.

"That would be great, thanks," he nodded and smiled.

"I should warn you, my car is really crappy. Like, it's so bad. Zoey doesn't even want rides," Emma told him as they started walking. This made him chuckle.

"I'll take my chances," he said. Emma almost didn't want to get inside the car, too happy with being outside. Paul gave her directions to his house and then they spent the ride in silence. Emma was surprisingly bummed about their time together ending. As she turned down his road, she wondered how many other people she could have been quarantined with without losing her mind already? Tom _definitely_ would have gotten on her nerves ages ago. Who knows how much her and Zoey would annoyed each other? Professor Hidgens maybe? Then again, he was pretty fucking weird.

But the time with Paul hadn't dragged on or annoyed her - it felt more like they had just been scratching the surface, and there was more to come. _Huh_ , how long ago had it been since she had wanted to get to know someone like this? She couldn't even remember last time.

Maybe she was allowed to want something? He was there, he was sweet and he didn't expect anything from her. Surely there wasn't anything wrong with wanting that?

"This is me," Paul said, and pointed to a cute little house. Emma parked next to it and let out a little sigh.

"Guess this is it," she said, looking over at him and sending him a half-smile.

"Yeah," he said, and there was something unreadable in his eyes, "Thanks for the ride... Emma," he added her name softly, almost like he was reminding himself that he could use it. Her smile grew wider.

"You're welcome. Don't forget your shitty croissants and the almond milk you wanted," she said, gesturing to the bag with perishables from Beanie's. Paul did a dorky salute and pulled the food out of the bag.

"Bye Emma," he said, putting one hand on the door, "I guess I'll see you around?"

"Yeah, see you when we open again," she joked. Paul turned around and opened the door. He had one leg out, when Emma heard herself say "Paul, wait!"

He turned back around, looking at her expectantly. "Yeah?" he asked. His lips were slightly parted and Emma had to concentrate to look away from them and into his eyes instead. What did she want? To lean across the seats and kiss him goodbye?

"Uh," she licked her lips, "Thank you. You made this night much much better."

"Oh," his eyes dropped down, like he was getting flustered from the praise. Emma's heart did this weird clenching thing that she immediately knew she'd never tell anyone about. "you too, Emma. Take care."

"Thanks," she said. Some stupid part of her brain was still screaming at her to grab him by the tie and pull him into a kiss. He nodded at her again, and then he got out of the car. The door slammed shut and she sighed. _Now_ she regretted not kissing him. For fucks sake! For a moment her imagination ran wild with images of her rushing after him, grabbing his arm and kissing him before he could ask her what she was doing. Was quarantine brain a thing? There was no fucking way she'd ever actually pull such a rom-com move.

Paul turned around by his front door and waved at her. Oh God, Emma couldn't fucking believe she wanted to kiss such a dork. She waved back at him, before starting the car. She spent the whole drive home trying to think of other things, like what school was going to be like during the quarantine and whether or not she actually had any food.

One look in her freezer after coming home cleared that up. There was a half full bottle of vodka she did not remember putting in there, ice cubes and one tub of ice cream. He fridge wasn't much better. She had been right about having two packs of ramen left. Great. She was going to starve to death in under a week.

She texted Tom that she was home now, and made an offhand joke about not having food. She didn't want his pity, but she did want someone to know she needed food. Ugh, needing people was so hard and stupid. She also texted Nora that she was home now and had done all the shit at Beanie's. She looked at the text from Zoey and decided to answer. _I did not, no. Now I'm home to live off ice cubes and ramen._

 _Your life is so fucking lame, Emma_ was the only reply. Fuck you too, _Zoeeeeey_.

Emma groaned and went into her bathroom. She brushed her teeth very thoroughly, almost sighing in relief. She had really looked forward to that! She dropped her uniform to the floor and took a hot shower, letting the spray loosen her neck muscles a bit. She wondered what Paul was doing, and whether he felt slightly weird about saying goodbye to her.

She got dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas bottoms and a loose t-shirt and walked around her apartment with a towel wrapped around her hair. She kicked some of her laundry and picked up a book. Why the fuck was her apartment so goddamn shitty?? Never mind starving to death, she'd probably go batshit crazy before that. She could practically feel it happen already...

She really couldn't stay here through a whole quarantine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!! Also, if you see a mistake, please let me know, because I am a simple Danish fool, making myself write in my second language, haha. But seriously, I would love to remove all mistakes I have made.
> 
> So far I just wrote two chapters. Not sure when I'll post the next one


	2. This is fucking insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! Y'all are the best! <3

_This is fucking insane, Emma_ , she told herself for the 100th time, looking at the large shoulder bag in the front seat. It contained her laptop, school books, toiletries and clothes for a least a week, all of it stuffed down there in a rush. Next to it was a plastic bag with the little food she had and the vodka. She looked back up at Paul's house and sighed. This was fucking insane, but she was here now. Driving home without even asking him just seemed even dumber.

She hopped out of the car, and walked around, opening the passenger door and picking up her bag and the food. She slung the bag over her shoulder and sighed. After locking the car, she walked up to the front door. She took a deep breath and then rang the doorbell. Her heart was beating louder than usual, as she wondered what Paul would say to her turning up unannounced like this so soon after dropping him off. What should she say? _I didn't want to be alone_ or _I missed you?_ No, that would be weird. No one came to answer the door, and it was making her uneasy. She rang the doorbell again.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought, ready to leave again, but then the door flew open. Paul looked out at her with surprise written all over his face. His hair was a mess, and he was wearing a washed out grey t-shirt and loose black sweatpants. Had he been sleeping?

" _Emma_?!"

"Hi," she said, smiling awkwardly, "so, uh, I don't really have any food at home and, uh, my apartment is smaller than Beanie's, and I- um. " _This is stupid, this is stupid._

"Do- do you wanna stay here?" Paul asked, stepping aside.

"If it's not too weird?" Emma asked, stepping inside, "I don't really want to go to my brother in-law. There is no way they have enough food for me as well."

"I have a guest bedroom," Paul said, "so it should be okay. I also have food. My friend Bill got really worried about me starving to death when the virus came to America, so he made me buy loads of food and fill my freezer."

"I can't believe you were stuck at Beanie's, when you could have been here," Emma commented dryly, following him down the hall.

"I guess that _is_ ironic," Paul said, making a huffing noise. He gave her a quick tour of the house, starting in the kitchen, so they could put away the food she brought along. It was a nice room, it got the morning sun, and had a little breakfast table in the corner. There was a door into a small dining room, which didn't look like it got used much. The living room was a little bigger, and seemed like it was where he spent most of his time. There was a newspaper on the coffee table, one single cactus in the window and a really soft-looking blanket over the corner of the couch. Like the kitchen and dining room there wasn't many decorations and things were kept pretty neat. Not a surprise at all.

"The guest room is also kind of my office, if I need to work from home, but I like to sit down here too," Paul told her. She followed him up the stairs and he showed her the guest room. It had a double bed, a small dresser and a desk pushed into the corner. "The only bathroom up here is through my room."

"Cool," she said, looking over at the bed. As if on cue, she started yawning.

"You must be exhausted," Paul said.

"Yeah," she nodded. She really was. "Where you sleeping when I showed up?"

"I was, yeah. Passed out right after brushing my teeth," he answered. He kept looking at her like he couldn't believe she was there. Which, okay, was pretty fair. She couldn't really believe she had showed up either.

"Oh my God, brushing my teeth felt so good. I'm gonna start having a toothbrush in my purse at all times now," Emma said with a groan.

"That's not a bad idea," Paul agreed. They watched each other awkwardly until Emma yawned again. This time it infected Paul, and he also yawned. "I'm gonna let you sleep," he said, and then he left her alone in the bedroom. Emma unpacked her things, changed back into the pjs she picked after her shower. She pulled her hair out of the impromptu updo she had done, and ran her fingers through it, before braiding it quickly. It was still a little damp from her shower. She sat down on the bed, and moved her hand over the cover. It was a dark grey color, matching the curtains.

She was really here, in Paul's guest bedroom, about to spend at least some of her quarantine there. Her life really took a turn in the past 24 hours. She scooted backwards and crawled down under the covers. _Ooh_ , his sheets and duvet were ridiculously soft. How? She'd have to ask him what he used to wash them.

* * *

Emma woke up feeling much better. She kept her eyes closed and she stretched her arms and legs as much as she could. She didn't want to crawl out of the comfortable sheets, however she was a bit thirsty. She opened her eyes and rolled over and looked at her phone. It was almost 1 in the afternoon. Wow, she had been out for hours.

She crawled out of bed and walked barefoot over to the window. She opened the curtains and looked down. He had a small backyard! She let out a whistle. This was perfect if she needed fresh air! She could already see herself sitting outside with coffee and a blanket, catching as much Vitamin D as possible. Going here had definitely been a good decision, even if it was still super weird. She told herself they could keep to separate rooms and ignore each other if they realized hanging out sucked.

She got dressed quickly, and then after one last glance towards the backyard, she made her way down to the kitchen to get some water. There was a bustling sound from inside and when she opened the door, she was met with the sight of Paul making pancakes. He turned around with a yelp, and then broke into a wide grin.

"I wanted to make you a proper breakfast, but the only thing I'm good at is pancakes," he said, almost like an apology.

"Sugar and carbs is always a win for me," Emma said, doing finger guns. She walked inside, looking around the room again. She opened a few cupboards looking for a glass. After finding it, she poured herself some water and sat down by the table. She could suddenly feel how hungry she was, as she smelled the pancakes.

Paul was fascinating to look at. Now, outside of his work clothes and the coffee shop, he was more relaxed, which suited him. The t-shirt revealed his arms, which were nicer than she first thought through his suit jacket. She could also see a bit of his collarbone and for some reason her eyes kept getting drawn there. He was concentrated, narrowing his brows. Whenever he flipped a pancake, he pursed his lips, and when he succeeded he did a satisfied little nod. When she got up to set the table, he sent her this wide dopey smile.

"I have syrup and butter in the fridge," he said.

"Who keeps syrup in the fridge?" Emma asked, mostly to herself. She finished setting the table, and Paul served the pancakes. Emma poured loads of syrup on hers, and started eating right away. "Oh, these are _good!_ " she said, trying not to moan.

"Thanks," Paul replied, and his ears got a little red. He poured syrup over his pancakes, and then proceeded to smear it evenly on each pancake with a knife. Emma eyed him with amusement.

"What the fuck? That's serial killer weirdness, Paul," she joked.

"I just like it when there is enough syrup on every bite," he replied.

"Can't believe I showed up voluntarily at a serial killers house," she snorted, before stuffing more pancake into her mouth.

"That really was a rookie mistake, Emma," he responded, and then he did a poor attempt at an evil smile. She laughed at it anyway.

"At least I got these dope pancakes out of it," she said.

"I mean, who wouldn't like to die right after eating pancakes?" Paul asked.

"People who don't know what's really important," Emma said, gesturing with her fork. They continued joking as they ate. Emma forced down one more pancake than she had room for, and she sighed deeply when she put down her fork. They cleaned up and did the dishes in silence, only talking when Emma needed to know where to put things. "Thank you for making me breakfast," she said earnestly, looking up at him. He was so tall, she was sure he could rest his head on top of hers with ease.

Paul visibly swallowed, looking down at her warmly. "You're welcome." Emma felt one corner of her mouth turn up, and she stepped a little closer.

"And, thank you for letting me stay here," she added, biting her lip and holding his gaze.

"No - no problem," Paul nodded. He looked nervous, a bit like a deer caught in the headlights. She stopped inching closer, not interested in scaring him. Paul looked down at his feet for a moment, then he glanced at the kitchen counter. When he looked back up, he was grinning and there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Do you want a cup of coffee?"

Emma snort-laughed. "The idea of you making me coffee does have a certain appeal, but I'm actually more in the mood for tea."

"I have Earl Grey?" Paul offered.

"That would be great," Emma said.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in Paul's living room. The TV was running with constant news about the virus and the lockdown. The stupid local government still hadn't worked anything out. Emma was stretched out on the couch, looking at her laptop. She had a _lot_ of emails from her different classes at community college. Professor Hidgens had sent his class a really long one, where he discussed all the pros and cons of online teaching. It seemed like he had been constantly changing his own mind as he wrote. Emma wasn't even sure what he ended up choosing. She smiled to herself, she was oddly fond of Hidgens. He was almost like her eccentric uncle or something.

Paul was sitting in a chair, also looking at his computer. His company was trying to work out how much the employees could do from home. The nervous coworker called once, and Paul talked reassuringly to her for fifteen full minutes. Then he talked to his friend Bill and someone named Alice for twenty minutes. Emma had taken the opportunity to go into the backyard and get some sun in her face. She stood there with closed eyes, breathing deeply, until she got cold.

While they worked Emma kept stealing glances at Paul. Occasionally he would look up at her, and send her a little smile. She was slowly accepting the fact that she wanted to kiss him. She had hoped it would make the feelings less scary and therefore less intense, but unfortunately that didn't happen. Yes, she was less scared, at least for now, but the feelings were not becoming less intense. In fact it was the opposite. Right now as he sat there, staring at his screen and biting his bottom lip as he concentrated, she just wanted to go over there and kiss the shit out of him. She was pretty sure she could rock his world pretty hard. She'd like to do that.

* * *

Neither of them were hungry until it was dark outside. Emma offered to make food, so she could hide a little in the kitchen. She looked through the fridge, picking the vegetables that needed to be used first. He had some chicken, so she decided to just to a simple stir fry. She set the table, and then called for Paul.

He seemed unable to stop smiling through the whole meal, and he praised the food several times. It was stupidly cute. Emma wasn't sure she could resist kissing him much longer, and Paul didn't exactly seem like he was going to make a move. She looked down at her food, fighting a sigh. When did she end up as the most pining of the two of them? _Fucking pathetic_.

Paul insisted on doing the dishes, so Emma walked back into the living room. She flicked through the channels. The Mayor had promised a full plan at a press conference at 10 AM and now a bunch of idiotic "experts" were trying to predict what the plan would be. Emma blew a raspberry at the TV.

She answered one last email, and sighed. She really hoped there would be a good plan. If she couldn't work and still had to pay rent and tuition... she would be fucked. Paul had a bit more work, so Emma made them more tea. She drank hers while watching dumb _youtube_ videos on her laptop. At some point Paul yawned, and stretched his whole body. "I should probably sleep," he said.

"Yeah me too," Emma said, closing her browser and turning off the laptop. She took their mugs and carried them into the kitchen. She poured the remaining tea out, and rinsed the cups. She debated leaving them for the morning, but she heard Paul walk up the stairs and sighed. He liked to clean things up. She turned on the warm faucet and washed the mugs. She put down a dishtowel and placed the mugs upside down, leaving them to try during the night.

The light was turned off in the living room, so she walked upstairs, heading into "her" room. She could hear Paul move around in his. She looked at the unmade bed and sighed. What a weird fucking day - _again_ today. She changed into her pajamas before finding her toiletries. She looked at her things, deciding to not head back downstairs. Instead she carried her toothbrush and toothpaste over to Paul's door. She knocked three times.

"Come in," was the response. She opened the door and walked inside. His bedroom looked a lot like the guest room, only bigger, and with a view of the front yard and road. The bed was of course made neatly, and there was no laundry on the floor or the chair in the corner. There was a closet, with a mirror on the door. The bedside lamp was turned on, and the door was open into the en suite bathroom. Emma stopped in the doorway, looking at Paul as he leaned over the sink. He looked at her in the mirror and she lifted the toothbrush.

"Can I use your sink?" she asked.

"Of course!" he stepped to the side, making space for her, continuing to brush his teeth.

"Thanks for letting me stay, by the way," she said, while putting toothpaste on the toothbrush. "we'll, uh, work something out in terms of money. I don't have many, but I don't want to freeload."

Paul spat toothpaste into the sink."Right, yeah," he said, "let's worry about that tomorrow."

"Cool, I just don't want you to think I won't pay," she said, and started brushing her teeth.

"Emma, I know," he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. His palm was warm and the weight of it was reassuring. Emma looked up at him and tried to smile in a thankful way, but the effect was probably ruined by the toothbrush in her mouth. He was looking at her, making her feel very aware of her appearance. Why had she already taken off her bra?

"Thanks," she tried speaking around the toothbrush. He chuckled softly. They resumed their brushing in silence, occasionally sending each other silly looks in the mirror or sharing a smile. Paul used floss after, because of course he did. Emma fought the fond smile about to appear on her face. She washed her face with cold water for something to do. Paul left the bathroom, and when she stopped in the doorway to look at him, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, taking off his socks.

The sight of him sitting there did it. If someone were to ask her why, she wouldn't have an answer. Maybe it was because it was the end of the night? Or the fact that she was seeing him in this intimate setting? Maybe her restraint just happened to run out now? She had no idea. All she knew was that in that second, she couldn't wait any longer.

"Paul," she said, walking determined towards him. He looked up just as she reached him and crashed their lips together. Her pulse was loud in her ears, but she still heard Paul make a noise in surprise. She lifted her hands, cupping his face between them and pulled back, looking at him. He opened his eyes, blinking like he couldn't believe it and his lips parted slightly.

"Uh," he said. Then he smiled, and leaned in again, kissing her gently. Emma smiled against his soft lips, tilting her head, so she could deepen the kiss. Not surprisingly he tasted like toothpaste. Paul's hands landed hesitantly on her hips, and she tiptoed closer to him. He was still just kissing her gently, following her lead. She moved one hand, so she could bury it in his hair. She tried deepening the kiss a little more, needing to be closer to him. She could feel his fingers tighten the grip on her hips and she pushed him backwards. He just let himself fall, pulling her with him, so she had to catch herself by putting a hand down on the bed.

Paul looked up at her with so much warmth and adoration in his beautiful blue eyes, it made her feel shy for a moment. She crawled fully up on the bed, laying flushed against him. She kissed him again, not waiting for him to move. This time he deepened the kiss first, and he placed a hand on her back. Emma could feel the heat from his palm through her shirt, and she immediately started looking forward to when he would put his hands directly on her skin. She let out a pleased noise, running her hand down his side and sneaking it under the shirt. Paul made a little noise as well, opening his mouth a little. He suddenly moved, flipping them around, so he was on top of her. Emma couldn't stop the small moan from escaping her mouth as she got squeezed between his warm body and the bed. Paul lifted his head and looked at her.

"Get back in here," she ordered. He ran a few fingers through her hair, before leaning down and kissing her again. Both of their breathings were becoming heavier. After spending most of the day wanting to kiss him, Emma was far from disappointed with actually making out with him. She had wanted to rock his world, but it turned out to be _her_ _world_ that was being rocked. Paul was a _great_ kisser, and not just because of those full lips of his. Emma had both hands under his shirt now, one resting on his ribs and the other holding onto his hip. She wanted to remove his stupid sweatpants, but he was still only touching her outside the clothes and she didn't want to push him. She dug in her nails a little when he tugged her bottom lip gently with his teeth. _Damn, Paul_ , she thought to herself, _bold move._

Then - _finally_ \- he moved his hand underneath her shirt and she hummed under her breath from the contact. She wondered if he had realized she wasn't wearing a bra. The noise he made when he moved his hand up, grazing against her sideboob, answered that question. She smiled in satisfaction. "Finding something interesting?" she asked. He answered with a _hnnng_ noise and kissed her more feverishly.

Paul trailed kisses down her neck and back up again, capturing her mouth in a scorching kiss. Emma ran her hands down his arms and back, trying to touch as much of him as possible. Why hadn't she kissed him earlier? This morning after the pancakes or maybe she should have followed Zoey's ridiculous suggestion and had sex with him in the break room. Right now that seemed like a pretty good idea, actually.

Paul's hand was still under her shirt, with his fingers splayed out against her ribs. His thumb was narrowly touching her boob, making her impatient for him to properly touch her. She wiggled a little against him, while she contemplated flipping them around and taking a bit more control. Paul groaned, kissing her harder. Then he lifted his head and upper body and looked down at her.

"We should go to sleep," he said. Emma frowned. _What?!_ Why did he want to stop now? He seemed to be enjoying himself, at least that was what she assumed, from the _something_ poking into the top of her thigh.

"Really? Now?" she asked, still panting a little. She rolled her hips against him, trying to prove a point. His eyelids fluttered and he leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, but still holding his upper body up so it wasn't touching her.

" _Yes_ , now," he mumbled, and Emma was pleased with the longing in his voice. At least he wasn't unaffected by this.

"Okay," she sighed in disappointment, letting her hands drop down on the bed. He kissed her sweetly on the lips and sat up. She licked her lips and closed her eyes, sighing again. This felt way too close to a rejection. A part of her wanted to jump off the bed, grab her things and drive back home. She didn't like being close to people, and she really didn't like being vulnerable. There was also a _fuck you_ waiting on her tongue, but she held it back. She opened her eyes again, and sat up on the bed, crawling backwards until she could lean against the headrest. "Don't you want to?" she asked, trying her best not to sound too mean.

"Oh, that's not - I mean - _of course_ I want to," Paul rambled, "we have time, right? I mean - taking things slow is -" he froze suddenly as he noticed her confusion. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, "wait... why did you kiss me?"

"Jesus, Paul," she said, "why do you think?" That clearly wasn't the right thing to say, because his shoulders dropped, and his eyes got even rounder.

"Okay," he said, nodding to himself, "okay," he looked at the bed and back up again, "okay." _Oh fuck, she broke Paul._

"What did you want me to say?" she asked. She genuinely wanted to know what was happening, but unfortunately it came out in her usual sharp tone. 

"I think I misread the situation," Paul said, and then he got up from the bed, walking towards the door like a dejected puppy. _Shit. Fuck._

"Paul," Emma said, following him. " _Fuck_. Stop, please."

"If you just want a hook-up, that's okay, I just can't," he turned around to look at her.

"That's not-" she started, but paused, biting her lip. Paul waited politely for her to gather her thoughts. "I know why you came into Beanie's all those times, and it wasn't because you liked our shit coffee," she said, not entirely sure where she was going with it, "our coffee was _shit_. Sometimes we would spit in it - you might have drank my spit - anyway, I didn't know you back then, but I wish I did. I've really enjoyed spending all this time with you, even if the circumstances suck. _That's_ why I kissed you."

The most sweet and relieved smile appeared on Paul's face. "Oh." He stepped closer, still smiling. "Do.. you wanna sleep in here or the guest room?"

"Shut _uuup_." Emma shoved his arm lightly and moved back towards the bed. Paul walked over to his hamper. He removed the stupid sweatpants, but kept the t-shirt on. Emma watched him place them in the hamper and close it again. She picked up his socks from the floor and threw them at his head. One hit the wall and the other hit him. "You forgot something," she teased.

Paul rolled his eyes, and picked up the socks. Emma decided to follow his lead and drop the pj-bottoms. She left hers on the floor, sending him a challenging look before crawling into the right side of the bed. He shook his head lightly as he walked over to join her. Emma ogled his long legs a bit, giving him a very obvious elevator-look. The sheets on this bed were just as soft as the ones in the guest room, and they smelled like Paul. She liked it. When Paul was under the covers, he looked down at her, smiling like he couldn't believe it.

"I'm going to kiss you again," he announced, leaning down. He gave her a lingering kiss, tentatively cupping her jaw. Emma kissed him back, scooting a little closer, so she was pressed against him. She tangled their legs together, practically hooking herself onto him.

"If you're still intent on sleeping, you should probably stop kissing me," she said against his lips.

"I am," he said, pulling back, "there is no rush." He rolled away to turn off the bedside lamp, and Emma made herself more comfortable , lifting up the duvet to her ears. _No rush, my ass_.

"Goodnight, Paul," she said.

"Goodnight, Emma," he replied. He moved around a little at first, but then he settled down and his breathing became deeper and slower. Emma was unable to fall asleep. In spite of having been tired all day, suddenly her body was wired and buzzing. Probably from the loads of kissing, the not-actually-having-sex and then the whole confession thing. It was hitting her that she was in Paul's bed now. In terms of non-sexual intimacy, they were going much faster than she was used to. Fucking quarantine.

She was surprisingly okay with what she had told him. It was true, she did wish they had gotten to know each other earlier, under different circumstances, with normal dating. Watching a movie or getting coffee somewhere other than Beanie's. Also, she really didn't like it when he thought she just kissed him for a hook-up. Ugh, she was getting _soft._ How disgusting.

Emma sighed, trying to stop her stupid brain from thinking. She should sleep. She rolled onto her side, facing away from Paul. She listened to his soft breathing, trying to match her own to it. It helped, just like last night, even though her body was still way too aware of him being _right there._ As if on cue, he rolled closer and slung an arm over her on top of the duvet. He made a pleased noise, and his breathing became even deeper. Emma smiled despite herself.

* * *

The sound of an alarm clock woke her up, and she turned around in confusion. Someone was holding her, the sounds and smells were all wrong and the bed was not her-

Oh, right.

Paul's.

"Paul." She poked him. "Shut your shitty alarm."

" _Hmmfgh_ ," he mumbled, so she poked him harder. That seemed to work, and he rolled away, turning off the blaring. "I'm sorry. I forgot it would ring."

"What time is it even?" Emma asked, rubbing her eyes.

"7 AM," Paul answered.

"Ugh _fuck_ you," Emma said, crawling deep down under the duvet.

"Mhmmm," Paul mumbled, already sounding half asleep. He rolled up next to her, basically spooning her. "Wouldn't _you_ like to.." His voice was low, but she still heard it. She snort-laughed. She would have turned around and kissed him full-on, but he sounded asleep already.

This time she fell asleep fast, but she woke up not long after. Paul was completely out, so she gently untangled herself and walked out to find her phone. It was a little low on battery, but luckily she could connect the charger next to Paul's bed. She crawled back under the duvet and pushed the pillow against the headrest, so she could slouch against it while scrolling through her phone. Tom had asked if she needed some food, so she replied that she worked something out.

Paul had sprawled out on his back while she was gone, and for a moment she was tempted to text Zoey a picture of him next to her. She smiled to herself at the thought. She'd never do it, but it was fun to think about. She scrolled through the news, seeing people talking about their expectations towards the press conference. She clicked an article about how Peanuts was doing instead.

"'Morning," Paul's sleepy voice sounded just as she finished the article. Emma looked down at him, smiling as he glanced up at her. His hair was flopped down onto his forehead.

"Morning," she replied, pushing some of the hair away. She looked at the time, it wasn't much past 8 in the morning. She placed the phone back on the bedside table and crawled down so she was at his height. "We have almost two hours until the press conference," she said, "what do you want for breakfast?"

"It's up to you," he said, brushing a quick kiss against her lips.

"I'm gonna look through your fridge then," she said. She grabbed onto his t-shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him deeply. "After we eat, we're gonna discuss this time table you have us on," she told him, moving her hand down to give his ass a quick, playful squeeze. Paul yelped and she laughed loudly, getting up and pulling her pj-bottoms back on.

She was sure this quarantine would have its ups and downs, but she felt pretty hopeful for the near future at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! 
> 
> To be honest, I kind of want to write more... I don't know how this happened. I just wanted to write about them stuck at beanie's, being cute and awkwardly into each other, and now _this_ happened.  
> If y'all have any ideas for what could happen next, let me know! Or, if you think I should control myself and stop, tell me, haha :D 
> 
> As always, let me know if I use commas wrong or can't spell things. Thanks!


	3. It's Thursday??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote more. Because... I love them. And I lack self control. Woops.  
> Thank you for all of the many sweet comments and all the kudos. You're the best!!  
> Also, I know absolutely nothing about American community college, so ignore the mistakes. Bonus points to anyone who catches the _Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again_ line, haha!

The local government presented their plans and answered questions from journalists. Emma booed them as they talked, making Paul laugh. The new society rules were that all school and classes were made online, all who could work from home should, and people weren't allowed in large gatherings.

"They blew this out of proportions by locking us up, huh?" Emma said dryly. Paul nodded, chuckling to himself. "Feel like they could have decided on these things faster."

"Yeah," Paul agreed, "I probably have loads of emails from work now."

"Probably," Emma said. She sipped some of the coffee she had made them, and watched Paul move around to find his work things. She should probably find her own stuff and get started on preparing for classes. She really didn't want to work from home, but at least she could do it in pjs, which was a total plus.

They ended up both setting up at the dining table. Paul set up his laptop, put down a mouse mat and a wireless mouse and a coaster for his coffee cup. Emma placed her laptop, a stack of books and a folder full of loose pieces of paper, all scribbled with notes and drawings in the margins. Paul had a video conference with his boss, and Emma put on headphones and listened to music while she attempted to figure out how she was going to take classes online.

There was another email from Hidgens, giving them a load of instructions about what they should read, while he planned his online class for tomorrow. Emma nearly groaned as she looked at all the texts he had written, but stopped herself when she remembered Paul's video call.

Paul heated up the leftovers from yesterday and both of them ate at the table while working. Emma nearly fell asleep several times while she tried to read. Maybe the pjs weren't helping her? Paul had chosen jeans and a pull-over as his work clothes and he seemed to be working without problems, although he did drink his fair share of coffee during the day. She sighed - working at home was going to be a challenge.

Just like back at Beanie's, the silence between them was comfortable. Emma liked talking, but she also liked the fact that she didn't _need to_ around Paul. It was nice that he didn't demand her attention during the day, instead he let her dive deep into her reading. He did seem amused by the lack of order in her notes, and the growing number of piles around her as she attempted to get a little organized. She still looked at him occasionally, feeling a small flutter in her stomach. He hadn't tried to kiss her again during the day. She figured it was either because he was in a professional mode or because he was feeling awkward. It was probably both.

They ended up making grilled cheese for dinner and eating in front of the TV. Emma sat cross-legged on the couch, holding her plate with one hand. Paul sat leaned over the coffee table, which looked hilarious with his long body. She got him to watch some ridiculous reality show where the contestants' exes showed up and everything was over the top dramatic. Paul didn't agree with her that it was amazing TV, but he still watched the second episode.

He scooted a little closer to her, and placed his arm along the back of the couch. Emma smiled to herself. Paul was such a dweeb. It shouldn't be this endearing. She looked at him, and he smiled nervously at her. "What's up?" she asked, moving a little closer. She noticed his gaze dropped to her lips for a second. Good to know he wasn't unaffected. He leaned forward, as if he was going to kiss her, only to stop halfway, move backwards and look at her nervously. Emma just waited, unable to hide the amusement on her face. Paul visibly swallowed before moving forward again, this time actually pressing a small kiss against her mouth.

"You've been distracting me all day," he said and hesitantly wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, "how so?"

"I just liked looking up and seeing you here," he said, and then he blushed. It was very sweet and a lot more than she was able to say back at this point. So she just leaned in and kissed him again. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, kissing her gently. He traced his thumb along her jaw, resting his hand so his other fingertips were barely touching her throat. She could hardly believe this was the same guy who last night had been pressing her into the mattress and using teeth and tongue when he kissed her. It was nice though, to sit there and slowly kiss and enjoy the moment together.

"Are you smearing your cheesy fingers on my face?" Emma asked with a grin, when he pulled back.

"Figured it was better than wiping my hands on my jeans," Paul quipped, returning her grin.

"Oh really?" she asked. She threw herself forward to wipe her hands on his face. She managed to do it with her right hand, but he caught her wrists, holding her hands away from his face. Emma struggled against his hold, crawling so she was sitting across his legs. Paul was laughing as he tried to stop her from wiping her hands on him again. He lifted her arms up, away from him, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"Looks like I won," he said smugly.

"It does," she said, smiling as she leaned down to kiss him. Paul eyelids closed slowly as she hovered with her lips just above his. Before he could react she licked his cheek. "Ooooh daaamn, Emma Perkins strikes back with a surprise attack!" she mimicked a commentator and laughed loudly. Paul was staring at her in surprise.

"You _didn't_ ," he said. Then he quickly let go of her hands and began tickling her sides.

"No!" Emma screeched, throwing herself away from him. Paul laughed and did this smug little eyebrow lift, like he was saying _gotcha_. Then he got up and picked up their dishes. He carried it into the kitchen. Emma followed him, lurking behind. When he had placed it all in the sink and turned on the faucet, she dashed forward, pushing him around and cornering him against the counter. She stood on her toes and pulled him down so she could kiss him full-on. Paul froze in surprise and Emma kissed him a little harder. He moved one hand down to the small of her back, pressing her closer to him. Emma reached out her hand behind him, scooping up water and poured it down his back.

"Emma!" Paul yelped, jumping up. She threw her head back and laughed.

"I will always win," she told him, and he rolled his eyes. He turned off the faucet, and then he pulled his shirt over his head. Emma wolf-whistled, and he blushed. The t-shirt underneath was also wet, so he removed that as well, while walking out of the kitchen. Emma watched his back as he left, absentmindedly wondering if this counted as a win for her or him. She got the good view, but he got the satisfaction of making her look. _Nah,_ she decided, she had definitely won this one. She sighed, before she turned around and rinsed the dishes for him.

He came back downstairs in the same grey t-shirt from last night. He saw her cleaning up and smiled, making her weirdly warm inside. "Thanks," he said, walking over and leaning against the counter. Emma continued cleaning, not really sure what to do now. Now that the adrenalin from their playful fight had disappeared, she realized she was getting tired.

"I think I'm ready for sleep soon," she said.

"Makes sense, you were up early," he said.

"Well, if _someone_ had turned off their alarm, I wouldn't have," she told him, sending him a mean look.

"I have to get up so I'm working at 8 tomorrow," he sighed, rubbing his neck.

" _Gross_ ," Emma replied. Paul nodded in agreement.

And so day 2 of quarantine in Paul's house ended with them going to bed early. Emma crawled under the covers while Paul was finishing flossing, and she fell asleep before he joined her in bed.

* * *

Day 3 was pretty good. Emma slept in, ignoring Paul's alarm. She used his shower before getting dressed in jeans and a sweater. She had some cereal for breakfast, eating it leaning against the counter. Paul was talking to his boss over Skype, so she poured herself coffee and tried finishing her reading for the class later.

The class itself was... _interesting_. Paul had moved into the living room, leaving her alone. Hidgens had managed to get _Zoom_ to work, and everyone checked in. They weren't many people taking the class. Emma had positioned herself with one of Paul's white walls behind her, and after playing around with her background a little, she ended up making it one of her favorite pictures from Guatemala. It was after one of her longest hikes, and the view had been amazing. She could see at least two others who had made their backgrounds different. There was one with a beach behind him, and one who had made her background look like she was doing carpool karaoke with James Corden. Emma snorted when she saw it.

Hidgens had placed his computer up on something, so he could stand in front of his whiteboard and write. He had already made a few notes and a drawing. Emma was pretty impressed with his setup. He started counting them all, to see who was missing, but he got distracted when he saw her background.

"Emma!" he said in that intense tone of his, "that's _in_ credible!"

"Thanks, I took it myself," she replied.

"This app lets you change the background!" Hidgens was grinning like a child at Christmas, "tell me how immediately!" Emma was only slightly disappointed that the compliment wasn't for her picture. She started telling him what to click, and he seemed way to excited to choose a picture. Before he had changed his, a girl from class named Lola changed her own background to a screen shot of Hidgens in front of his whiteboard. This made Hidgens laugh more than Emma could remember seeing him laugh before.

"You know, this app really is _remarkable_! I can reach you all in your homes!" he told them, when he finally got a changed background. He picked a theater stage, and did a bow like they were applauding him. "I could get as happy with this as my wonderful _Alexa_."

"Professor, the lecture," someone said.

"Ah yes! Of course!" he nodded, "if you look at my whiteboard, you can see the drawing of the cell. What you ha-" he was interrupted by a chorus of students speaking on top of each other. "Of course, the background! _Emma_! How do I remove it?"

They ended up having a pretty good class, after Emma got Hidgens to remove the background again. Afterwards, Emma made more coffee for herself and Paul. She placed his mug near him, before heading out into the backyard.

She kind of loved it out there. It was small, with a fence and a few bushes. The back porch was tiny, with two wicker chairs and a lamp. There was one small tree in the right corner of the garden. The weather was chilly, but the sun was poking out through the clouds. Emma wrapped her jacket around her, sitting down with the coffee mug. She looked through her phone a bit, emptying her head from all thoughts. She realized she had an unread message from Zoey. Huh. It just said _Have you died from starvation yet?_

_Yes, you'll have to cover all my shifts when we open again,_ Emma replied. Zoey was much easier to like over text, where you didn't have to see her flirt with all the customers, suck up to Nora or hear her practice singing scales. Emma was surprised by how fast a reply came back. Maybe Zoey was bored? _Glad we got rid of your sour face._

Emma rolled her eyes at the phone. _Watch out, I might end up coming back to haunt you._ For the second time during quarantine, she had the impulse to tell Zoey about her whereabouts. She probably should tell someone that she was at Paul's house instead of her apartment. Could she tell Tom? He was probably the "right" one to tell, since he was her family, or whatever. However, the thought of telling him she was staying with a guy just made her feel extremely uncomfortable. He probably wouldn't even care.

If it wasn't going to be Tom, who else could it be? Someone from school? Emma bit her lip as she looked at the text chain with Zoey. _No no no_. Zoey couldn't become her confidante, that was too gross. She should tell Tom. Yes. Tom. That made sense.

Her fingers flew over the keys and then there was a text waiting for her to send it. _Also, funny story, but I am spending the quarantine at that customer dude's house._ She looked up at the tree, watching the branches move in the wind. The humiliation from confiding in _Zoooeeey_ vs. the awkwardness of talking to Tom about herself.

She pressed _send_ to Zoey. At least that meant someone knew where she was, in theory. The reply came instantly. _WAT!?_ then followed by three more messages of just question marks, and then finally the inevitable _this means you did fuck him, right?_

 _No, I did not._ Emma sent. Then she followed it with a _...yet._

_Pfffhhh. Get on it. What else are you gonna do? Play checkers HA HA._

Emma considered telling Zoey she had been trying to, but they weren't that kind of friends. In fact they weren't friends. Period. Her sex life or lack thereof was none of Zoey's business. Emma finished her coffee and leaned back in the chair.

The level of attraction she felt towards Paul still confused her. She couldn't remember being so drawn by another person before. Paul was so normal, and it was weirdly nice to be around. She wondered why he wanted to take things slow. She still hadn't asked him. She had been too tired yesterday, and she had a feeling he would get flustered and awkward if she brought it up.

It was getting a little cold, so she got up to go back inside. Paul was back at the dining table, typing away on his laptop. Emma looked at the time, and decided it was too late to start more work. She might as well spend her time making a nice dinner. She put in her earbuds and started a playlist on her phone, while she searched through Paul's freezer. He had a whole ass frozen chicken just lying there, next to what she assumed was frozen leftovers.

Emma bit her lip. She hadn't made a roast chicken in years. Like, it was probably a full decade since she helped Jane make one in their parents kitchen. She remembered drinking wine and laughing as they attempted to follow their old Nan's recipe. She closed the freezer and took a deep breath. Roast chicken was probably overkill for just her and Paul on a normal... Wednesday? Thursday?. Wait a minute. She checked her phone. It was _fucking_ Thursday. Oh shit.

Emma sighed, her sense of time was already completely fucked up. It was already Thursday?! But also, how was it only Thursday? So much shit had happened since she woke up Monday morning. Back then Paul had been a regular customer, who's awkward attempts at small talk always amused her, and who always left her in a good mood. Now, they were doing some weird _thing_. They weren't dating, but they weren't just hooking up either. In fact they _weren't_ hooking up at all, she thought to herself and snorted. She shook her head, as if to get the thoughts out. The realization that she hadn't interacted with another person than Paul since Monday was downright freaky.

She spotted a few bottles of wine on top of his cupboards. _Oh_ , _yes._ Wine. She could definitely do with some wine right about now. She crawled up on the counter, picking the red wine with the fanciest label. She looked through the cupboards until she found two wine glasses. She could make some Italian food for it? Pasta would be good.

She poured wine into both glasses, so she could leave the wine to air or whatever it was her dad always had talked about. She took a sip and contemplated what to make. The pasta dish didn't take long, and it was still a little early to eat. _Ooh,_ some freshly baked bread could be good alongside it. She listened to upbeat music, singing to herself as she worked and occasionally sipped the wine. It was great to cook in a _proper_ kitchen again. She sent a big mental _fuck you_ to her own kitchen.

The bread was in the oven, so she found pasta, spinach, loads of garlic and tomatoes and started preparing. When the garlic was sizzling in the pan, and the scent from it and the bread were mixing together, filling up the kitchen, Paul showed up. Emma wasn't sure how long he had been watching her, but when she saw him, she turned off her music and pulled out the earbuds. She lifted his full wine glass, and walked over to him, grinning widely. She stood on her tiptoes and gave Paul a peck on the lips, that turned out a little wet. "here, have some wines," she said, and he took the glass from her.

"It smells great in here," he said, lifting the glass in a silent cheers.

"Thank you," she replied, moving over to find her own. She lifted the almost empty glass to her lips and emptied it.

"How much have you had?" Paul asked. He still hadn't taken a sip from his own.

"Just one glass," Emma brushes him off, moving over to stir the garlic. Paul was moving as well, and when she looked up, he was connecting his phone to a small speaker in the window sill. Then fucking _Closing Time_ with Semisonic started playing. Emma snorted to herself, pouring some more wine into her glass. She added a large handful of spinach, and the sizzling sound of the water and the hot oil almost drowned out the music. She glanced at Paul, who held the wine glass delicately between his long fingers, and still wasn't drinking from it. "Are you going to leave me to drink on my own?" she asked, taking a big sip.

"Maybe I am," Paul replied, "because tipsy Emma seems interesting."

Emma just rolled her eyes and threw more spinach into the pan. "Don't test me dude, I will drink this whole bottle on my own. Who cares?"

Paul lifted the glass and made a show out of drinking from it. "Happy now?"

"A little." She sent him a playful smile, enjoying the hint of a blush she made appear in his cheeks. He was tapping his foot along with the song. "You hate musicals, but you do like some music?" she asked.

"I like music, I am not a complete freak," he rolled his eyes at her. The song died out and a new one started. Emma didn't recognize it, but it sounded like Chris Cornell singing.

"Right," she said, filing the info into her Paul box. He listened to alternative 90's rock. She could get behind that, remembering a time when she wanted to marry Billy Joel Armstrong. The image of Paul rocking out to it was pretty funny though. "So, concerts? Yay or nay?"

"Mostly a nay," he shrugged, "listening to music is something I do by myself. I don't want a mass of other people around me."

"Do you... need me to leave?" she joked, gesturing to the speaker with her head.

"No, I don't mind you being here," he said with a smile. He shifted his stance a little and took another sip of wine.

"You let me know if you need to be alone with Eddie Vedder," she said.

They decided to eat at the small breakfast table, since the dining table was covered in work stuff. Emma was starting to feel warm and a little fuzzy around the edges from the wine. It was exactly what she needed. Paul was finishing his first glass now, it turned out he drank wine faster when it was accompanying food. Emma teased him a little. When he got up to find them more water to drink, Emma poured him another generous glass. Just like the other night, he complimented her food a lot.

"Gheez, you're easy to impress," she commented, sipping wine and waggling her eyebrows at him.

"I am not much of a cook," he said, blushing, "I make good pancakes, and I'm also pretty good at mashed potatoes."

"Okay, first of all that's really sad, dude. Second, those pancakes are not just good, they are incredible. You'd be rolling in ladies if they knew you made them those pancakes the next morning." Emma told him, before taking a bite of the bread. Paul was blushing even harder now, and he cleared his throat.

"That good, huh?" he finally got out.

"Definitely," she said, smiling wickedly.

"I'll have to remember that, once the quarantine is over," he joked, half-heartedly. Emma still laughed.

They packed away the leftovers, froze some of the bread. Paul insisted on cleaning the dishes, so Emma emptied the bottle into their glasses and carried them into the living room. She sat down on the couch, scrolling through her phone as she waited. Paul joined her, sitting down and eyeing his glass. "More wine?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep," Emma said, putting down her phone. She scooted closer to him, and they grabbed their glasses and clinked them together. "Cheers, Paul," she said, placing her other hand so she could play with the hair on his neck.

"You know," he said after drinking, "it seems like you're trying to get me drunk." She noticed his gaze drifting down to her lips and back up again.

"Well," she leaned in, also dropping her gaze down, "I have at least 18 ulterior motives."

Paul let out a breath, somewhere between laughing and being nervous. Her eyes where closing, and Emma didn't really know if she was the one who closed the distance between them, or if it was Paul, but their lips met in a soft kiss. Paul's lips where warm and a little wet from the sip of wine. Emma tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Paul made a little _mmmh_ sound. She pulled back quickly, so she could put down her glass, and he followed her lead, before they resumed their kissing. Emma was twirling strands his hair between her fingers until they were buried and she could tug gently at the hair. Paul's hand came to rest on her thigh, just above her knee, and his thumb rubbed small circles onto her jeans, making her skin tingle.

Emma placed her hand on his arm, just under the shoulder. Paul deepened the kiss, and she squeezed his arm, breathing a little heavier. Some voice in back of her head was asking how the fuck this dude could produce such a strong reaction in her body, but Emma told it to shut up. She could worry about that some other time - when they weren't enjoying a wine sloppy make out session.

She sucked in a breath as his hand moved a little up her thigh. She wanted to pull him closer, make him crawl on top of her again, but she also wanted to see how far up his hand would travel on its own. The fuzzy feeling from the wine was making everything feel warmer and more intense. There was a hunger to the way they kissed, but not in an urgent way. His hand moved a little further, and his fingers spread wide, digging a little into her thigh. Just like last time he was careful and gentle, not pushing her. It just made her more impatient and she pulled him closer and ran her hand down his arm to his elbow. Then she grabbed onto his hip instead, moving her fingers under his t-shirt.

Paul's fingers tightened on her thigh and he pulled back a little, so their foreheads were resting against each other. She could feel his heavy breathing on her skin. " _Emma_ ," he murmured.

"What?" she asked, ignoring how affected her own breathing sounded.

"Nothing, I just..." he leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. "Wow."

"I gotta ask, man," she said, biting her lip "when are you planning on defiling me?"

"Emma!" he spluttered, and his eyes bulged out of his head.

"What?" she asked, leaning back against the cushion, grinning smugly.

"I would never-" he said, blushing deep red.

"Never? Huh, that sucks," she teased. Paul laughed, but it seemed a little forced.

"Emma," he said her name again, like he didn't know what else to say. He was scratching his neck nervously.

"Paul, I'm kidding," she said, and reached out. She took his hand, removing it from his neck and holding it between her own, "I am obviously cool with taking things in whatever tempo you're comfortable with. I just wanna make sure you're not doing this because of some _fucked_ _up_ chivalry reasons."

"I am not," he said, shaking his head, before looking at her with those big round eyes of his , "I mean, has the power imbalance, in terms of me letting you stay here and eat my food without many means to pay for it, crossed my mind? Yes." He was bordering on rambling.

"Are you making out with me because you feel entitled to it after providing dinner?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. He was such an idiot. She still wanted to kiss him again.

"No!" he answered, looking horrified.

"Paul, I am a grown ass woman though. If I want to show my gratitude by letting you touch my boobs, then it's my choice," she said, fighting a laugh. She figured he wouldn't appreciate being laughed at.

This made him cough and blush again. "Duly noted."

"Okay, so what's the deal then?" she asked.

"Look, you said you knew why I came into Beanie's, right?" he said, fidgeting a little, "so, is it so weird I wanna do this right? Not rush things, just because we're stuck together?"

"It's not weird," she said.

"Also, I'm not exactly good at all this stuff." He gestured sheepishly with his hands."I figured we could go on a real date before anything happened."

"Okay," Emma said. She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him again. "Like I said, I'm cool with whatever you're comfortable with."

"Thanks." He smiled.

"I am totally cool with making out loads though. Like a pair of teenagers," she joked, trailing one hand down his neck and chest. Paul smiled slowly, placing his hand on her arm.

"That sounds good," he said, kissing her. He leaned back on the couch, pulling her with him. Emma was more at ease, knowing where he stood on the whole thing, even if the whole 'going on a date first' idea seemed impossible to her at this point. She wondered how long he would wait for that to happen. It was cute and ridiculous that he thought there was a power imbalance. She hummed under her breath as they kissed. The hunger for him was coming back, but less powerful than before. They were kissing to enjoy kissing. Which was surprisingly okay.

After a while she crawled back into a sitting position and drank more of her wine. Her lips felt a little swollen, and she looked at Paul. His lips were redder than usual and his hair was messy after she ran her hands through it. It was a good look on him. She imagined what he would look like when he was completely undone and licked her lips absentmindedly at the thought.

Paul crawled up on his elbows and drank some of his wine as well. Emma sighed in content, twirling her last bit of wine around the glass. Everything was still warm and fuzzy, and even though her body was strumming from all the kissing, she was also getting a little sleepy.

This night she remained in the bathroom, while Paul flossed his teeth. She combed out her hair, watching him from the corner of her eye. There he was, Paul Matthews, a tall and gangly guy, currently flossing his teeth, a.k.a one of the least sexy things someone could do (not the caring about dental hygiene part, but the actual way it looked _when_ it was being done part) and she still wanted to bag that. Her life really was getting turned upside down. Jane would have _loved_ that she was getting involved which such a stable guy.

They resumed kissing lazily when they were in bed. They were still both wearing t-shirts, but Emma liked the feeling of her legs tangled up with Paul's. It was the most skin on skin contact they'd had. Paul was looking pretty tired, and it didn't take long before he was yawning.

"Am I really that boring?" Emma asked, pretending to be offended.

"No," Paul said, fighting another yawn, "wine just makes me sleepy." He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her exposed collarbone, before resting against her.

"We gotta build up your tolerance, buddy," Emma joked, ignoring her dumb urge to lean down and kiss the top of his head. There were limits to how mushy she could get, and every damn day with Paul was testing that limit...

* * *

She woke up to hot breath on her neck, and a warm body pressed against her back. There was an arm stretched over her right side and fingertips touching her hip, just around the edge of the underwear. It was stirring something in her. Her body was clearly more awake than her brain. Paul made a noise and pulled her closer, so his nose was brushing against her neck.

“Paul," she mumbled, trying to roll around so she could see him in limited light peaking in from around the curtains

“ _Mmhffm_ ,” Paul answered, “too early.” Emma managed to roll around so she was facing him. He moved his hand, so he could lift himself up and look at her.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice thick with sleep. She had no idea what time it was, and her brain was still groggy. All she wanted was to be closer to Paul. He kissed her instead of replying, as if he read her mind. His mouth was warm and open, and she hummed in response, kissing him back eagerly. She pulled him down closer to her, and almost hissed, when he placed a hand on her thigh and ran it up her side. She squirmed against him, moving her right leg, so he could fit better against her, in between her legs. Paul’s other hand was near her head, and she could feel his fingers tangle with strands of her hair. It was sending shivers down her spine.

Emma’s body was still working faster than her brain, and suddenly she noticed she had both hands under his t-shirt. Their breaths were heavy, and her body felt so warm, strumming with desire for him to touch her more. She pushed up his t-shirt, and Paul broke their kiss, so he could pull it off. She looked up at him and smiled. She trailed her fingertips down his chest, and he let out a deep breath. Then they were kissing each other again, hungrier than before. Emma had one hand in his hair and the other was heading down his back. His hand was squeezed in between her and the mattress, like he was holding onto her for dear life. Emma was feeling a little bold, so she grabbed his ass. He kissed her harder, letting out a small groan.

His hand was moving again, out from between her and the mattress and instead on its way up under her shirt. Emma arched her back into the touch, and just as Paul began to lift up her shirt, the alarm clock started blaring.

_Fuck._

“I have to work in half an hour,” Paul said, sitting up. Emma had to concentrate a little, so her eyes didn’t drift down to his strained boxer shorts. She didn’t really know what to say, so she just groaned in frustration and dropped her head back. Paul leaned down, hovering over her. “I’m… ah.. gonna take a quick shower. A cold one.”

This made her laugh. She gave him a kiss, and he made a dissatisfied noise when he had to pull away. She remained on the bed, watching him go into the bathroom. He really did have a nice ass - she had to give him that. Maybe not as nice as hers, but still pretty damn good.

Well, now she was just lying alone in his ridiculously soft sheets, catching her breath after some seriously good kissing. This was just great – being cockblocked by a freaking alarm. Still, she supposed this was promising for later.

She placed her arm over her eyes and sighed, replaying the kiss in her head. She vaguely registered the sound of the water running, and she wondered if Paul was as affected as her. She was still not fully awake, even if some parts of her were. She remained where she was almost drifting off as the water stopped running and Paul walked around the room, getting ready.

She felt his hand on her lower leg and lifted her arm, so she could look at him. “I’m gonna head down,” he said. Then he leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss against her lips. How boring. She zoned out a bit again, not really falling asleep, but not really staying awake either. At some point she finally gathered enough energy to sit up, and put her feet on the floor. She needed coffee, and she needed it as soon as possible, so she made her way down to the kitchen without bothering to put on more clothes. Her brain was buzzing, and she felt a little dizzy.

 _Aaah,_ right, the red wine last night.

It didn’t look like Paul had made coffee, so she made sure to make enough for both of them. She ran a hand through her hair and scratched her scalp, trying to tune out the sound from the machine. One of the usual mugs were missing – maybe Paul _had_ already made coffee for himself? She decided to check. He was sitting at the dining table with his back turned towards the door, and she walked past Paul to look at the table, stopping momentarily behind him as another small wave of dizziness hit her.

“ _Is_ that _the crabby barista from Beanie’s?!”_ a male voice sounded from Paul’s computer.

Emma didn’t really think, she just threw herself down to the ground with a yelp and crawled away, ignoring how her knee complained from the impact. The absurdity of the situation made her almost collapse onto the floor, as she fought the laugh that was trying to bubble through her.

“Let’s focus on work, please,” Paul said, clearly trying to sound nonchalant.

“ _Are you_ hooking up _with the barista from Beanie’s?”_ the voice sounded again.

“ _Ted, leave Paul alone,”_ a female voice said.

“ _Come on Charlotte! You don’t want to hear if they’re banging?”_ the male voice argued and Emma looked up at Paul. He was sitting stiff and awkward, and she could swear his ears were red.

“Can we just finish this discussion?” Paul asked, his voice strained. Emma crawled out of the dining room, leaving them to it. She grabbed a mug and poured herself some coffee. Then she sat down on the floor, her back against the cupboard and started laughing. _Holy fucking shit!_ Well, now Paul’s coworkers knew about her. That was… not ideal. But she wasn’t planning on stopping being around Paul, so she supposed it was okay. In a way.

Well, not really. At least she wouldn’t be bumping into anyone of them at Beanie’s anytime soon! She cradled the cup between her hands and sipped the warm coffee. When she was halfway through the cup, she heard Paul’s footsteps coming down the hall and into the kitchen. He looked at her, and she smiled at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling a face. Then, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing again.

“ _I’m_ sorry,” Paul said, sitting down next to her, “Ted is the worst, truly.”

“I’m guessing… Creepy moustache coworker?” she asked, doing a finger gun.

“The one and only,” Paul agreed, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe you just threw yourself down on the floor like that,” he added, and then he began to laugh.

“Guess my survival instinct kicked in,” she said, joining in his laughing. It must have looked hilarious. “I made coffee,” she added. Paul stood up, pouring himself a mug and then he sat down again.

“Thanks,” he nodded, “the least you could do, after interrupting my meeting in your underwear.” He bumped their shoulders together.

“Pfffh, I am sure it improved your very boring meeting to see half of my ass,” Emma teased back, enjoying the flustered look on Paul’s face.

“I mean…. Kind of,” he said, “although it made it harder to continue working.” Emma smiled and leaned in closer to kiss him, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. _Ah, fuck, again._

“Sorry,” Paul said, pulling out his phone, “it’s – oh _fuck_ it is _Ted_.” He declined the call and kissed her shoulder, before getting to his feet. He held out a hand and helped her up. Emma smiled at him, crinkling her nose. Paul smiled back, lifting his hand and giving her arm a squeeze. Then he took his coffee with him back into the dining room. She could hear his phone ring again. “ _Ted, if this isn’t about work I swear-“_

Emma chuckled to herself and poured some cereal into a bowl. This was going to be a slow day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna give a shoutout to ForceSmuggler for suggesting I include Hidgens, and for the coworkers to find out about Emma - I hope you like what I did. I'm going to use the others again, and Hidgens might make another appearance, if I think I can write him again. I am nowhere near as chaotic or intense as him. Also a big thanks to gooddaysunshine for helping me write Hidgens in the first place. 
> 
> I'm gonna do at least one more, if not 2 more chapters! I'm having a lot of fun dragging this out for Emma, not gonna lie.
> 
> Please tell me what you thought of this one. And, if you spot a typo, let me know, so I can fix it.  
> Thank you for reading. Love y'all.


	4. Oh shit, shit, shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there will be a little bit of angst in this. It's Emma, she's gotta angst sometimes, y'know...

Even with her slow moving brain, Friday passed in a blur of coffee, snacks and one of her other classes on _Zoom._ Emma opened another bottle of wine for dinner, in spite of the doubt in Paul's eyes. He had been interrupted by a video call from his friend and coworker Bill, and Emma was certain she heard a girl squeal through the speaker. She took the opportunity to pour them both a glass. When he returned, he had explained that Bill and his daughter Alice were very invested in his love life, and that Ted _definitely_ had been gossiping with Bill. Apparently Bill was very curious about it being _that nice girl from the coffee shop_. Emma scoffed, telling him she wasn't nice.

Friday night was spent with another wine sloppy make out session, this time while a movie played on the TV. Paul kept his hands very firmly on her hips, and sadly they didn't go straying anywhere else. The weekend started with both of them sleeping in. Emma took a long shower, trying to ignore the sense of restlessness in her.

She was curious about how Paul spent his weekends, and was disappointed to discover that he didn't do much. He read the paper, did laundry and cleaned up. He seemed completely unaffected by the isolation as he shuffled around. It made her wonder how much he ever got out in general. She ended up spending a big part of the afternoon looking through his things, just for something to do while he cleaned the bathrooms. She found a picture of him, another man and a young teenage girl at a carnival, sitting and smiling on a bench. The teenage girl had a look on her face, like she was trying to seem bored, but actually had fun. Paul looked younger, with a little longer hair, and an even rounder face. It made her smile. She also found some board games, and a cookbook shoved in the back of a closet.

He had a large plastic container filled with old VHS tapes. She looked through them, noticing the lack of Disney and musicals. Why didn't he throw them out? As far as she could tell, he didn't even have a VHS to play them on. It was starting to hit her that while Paul was really normal, he was also simultaneously really weird. He genuinely seemed to _enjoy_ doing his laundry, and he had a folder where he kept his receipts, instead of throwing them in a pile somewhere or forgetting them in a random pocket, like a normal person. 

But the weirdest thing was how content he seemed on his own with his own little routine. She hadn't heard him express a need to see other human beings or to go out somewhere, not even once. He had enough food and wine in his house to make you think he had people over all the time, but clearly didn't have a lot guests. She was getting the feeling he had all that food, because it was what you were supposed to do. He didn't mention other friends than the few coworkers, she had heard about before.

No, the weirdest part was how okay _she_ was with all of it. Nothing about him scared her off, even when he looked excited about folding his socks. He seemed lost in his own world, so Emma left him too it.

She spent most of Sunday in his yard, enjoying the fresh air and the sunlight. It was still chilly, so she had wrapped herself in a blanket, and brought one of her school books and a highlighter out with her. Her phone would buzz occasionally from the text chain between her and some other students, all preparing for Tuesday's class. In the late afternoon Paul asked if she wanted to watch a movie, so she joined him inside. She let him choose the film, and positioned herself so she could place her legs over his. Sometime during the movie, Paul's hand landed on her lower leg, and his thumb drew absentminded patterns.

When the movie was over, silence stretched out between them, and Emma scrolled through her phone. She glanced at Paul and noticed he was doing the same. His hand was still on her leg. She answered another text about class, and sent one to Tom, asking how they were. She hoped Tim was okay. She missed that little kid. Maybe she could video call him? She was pulled from her thoughts when Paul cleared his throat.

"What do you wanna do for dinner?" he asked, not looking up from his phone.

It was a simple question, an innocent one, but it made her stomach flip uncomfortably. Suddenly the _domesticity_ of their situation hit her, made her nauseated and clammy. "I.... don't know," she answered.

_Oh no._

There was a freak out on the way. In the back of her head, she noted it had taken her almost a whole week, which was a lot longer than she had thought it would take. Paul hummed in response, not noticing her sudden change in mood.

She was living with a _guy_. She didn't know him and they were living together and she didn't even tell her family and she was sleeping in his bed and making him food and they were kissing and he was holding her leg and asking her about dinner like they had been dating for years and everything was a routine and _shit shit shit_ now she was spiraling.

"I'll be right back," she got out, before moving towards the downstairs bathroom as calmly as she could. She splashed her face with cold water and tried to take some deep breaths. It was probably being cooped up like this that made her all weird. Right, that made sense. Another deep breath. She looked at herself in the mirror. _It will be okay, you dramatic asshole._

How Paul could handle being at home all the time was a mystery to her. She pulled her hair out of the hairclip and redid it, pinning it away from her face. Okay, she was getting more calm again, even if their couple-y situation still made her shudder. It didn't have to be like this. She could tell Paul they needed to act less like a couple. They had known each other _a week_. They should cool down. If it was needed, she could always go home.

She left the bathroom, and heard Paul in the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway and watched him. He seemed to be heating up some frozen leftovers in a pot while drinking a beer. The speaker was on, playing what she guessed was the unplugged Nirvana album. She watched him roll his shoulders and stretch his neck, before stirring the pot again. He started bopping his head to the music, and she fell into a kind of daze while looking at him. Just like the first morning, where he made her pancakes and she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"You're cooking," she said after a moment. He turned around and smiled at the sight of her. Like it made his whole day to see her there.

"I'm just heating tomato soup," he shrugged, "it's nothing special."

"Thanks anyway," she said, mustering a small, earnest smile. Paul walked over to the fridge, pulling out another beer. He opened it and handed it to her. " _Hey_ ," she said in a low voice, when he moved away.

"What?"

She pulled him closer and stood on her toes so she could give him a quick kiss. He smiled against her lips. Then he went back to the stove. Emma dropped down on a chair and took a big gulp of beer. She sighed. Here she was, telling herself to act less couple-y and then she went straight out and kissed him? _Jesus_. _What is wrong_ _with you?_

She still felt uncomfortable and clammy. She just didn't want to take it out on Paul. It wasn't his fault. She was the one who turned up and asked to stay at his place. _Ugh_. She always snapped at people, pushing them away. She drank more of the beer. Maybe she should just get blissfully drunk and go to bed?

Paul served the soup, and chatted a little about the movie and the sequel, which he didn't like as much. Emma let him talk, listening while she tried to drown out all her thoughts. She had no idea what to do about it. After dinner, they watched a little TV, but she ended up heading up for bed early. Paul showed up when she had finished getting ready, and he smiled at her as she crawled into bed. She scrolled through her phone, while she heard him brush his teeth.

He threw the clothes in the hamper before walking over to the bed. "What, no smartass comment about my laundry?" he asked with amusement. Emma grunted in response and crawled further down under the covers.

When he was lying next to her, he placed a hand on her arm and asked "are you okay?".

"I think I'm just tired," she lied.

"Ah," Paul said, clearly not believing her. He removed his hand and turned off his nightlight. Emma followed his lead, before closing her eyes. Her thoughts were twirling around, and she was unable to relax enough to sleep. There was a tense knot in her stomach, and it wouldn't go away.

Paul's breathing became slower and deeper. Emma turned around yet another time, still not able to make herself comfortable. Finally, after ages of lying awake, she couldn't help it, and she crawled closer to Paul. She wrapped an arm around his side and rested her head against his shoulder.

* * *

It had still taken her a long time to fall asleep, and when she woke up, she was alone in the bed, and she could hear the shower running. The tense knot in her stomach was still there, but at least she had slept. She rubbed her eyes, and scooted backwards a little, so she could rest her back against the pillows. Why did she have to feel so weird now? _Feelings are the worst._ She pressed her lips together and exhaled through her nose. She heard the water turn off, and shortly after Paul came out of the shower with a towel around his waist and his wet hair clinging to his forehead. Emma didn’t know where to look, or whether he wanted privacy.

He smiled at her, and she wondered of this was how Jane had felt when she started dating Tom. Did Jane get warm and fuzzy from seeing _him_ walking out of the shower? It was hard to believe, but she supposed Jane had married him for a reason.

She got out of the bed, and went into the bathroom. She washed her face and hands. Then she sat down on the cool tiles and hugged her knees. She was starting to think about Jane in a different way. She was used to missing Jane, to blaming herself for missing out on everything and blaming their parents for indirectly causing a rift between them. She was used to thinking about how to make Jane proud, thinking about how she would mend things with Tom and Tim. But thinking about Jane in the context of Paul was new and she didn’t like it. It was unsettling.

She crawled to her feet, going searching for her clothes. The bedroom was empty and she removed her sleepwear and got dressed in the sweater and jeans from yesterday.

When she came downstairs, she heard him in the kitchen. She was suddenly overcome with the need to be anywhere but here. She had to be properly alone! She went into the dining room, grabbed a blank page in her notebook and scribbled down _went on a drive. see you later._ She left it on the small dresser in his hallway. Then she put on her jacket, boots and scarf, grabbed her car keys and went out the door, closing it behind her.

At first she didn't know where she was going to go, but as she was driving, she realized she had to see the water. There weren't many cars on the road, and she made it there in no time. She parked the car and walked down to the beach. It was cloudy and windy today. It was a scenery her inner dramatic teenager could appreciate.

Emma stood there for a moment, with her hair blowing around in the wind, staring into the grey waves crashing onto the shore. Then she started walking up the beach, only stopping to throw the occasional rock into the water, trying to make the biggest splash possible.

Everything with Paul was going so fast - it had only been a week since it started. Or, six days if you counted from the moment she had kissed him. The quarantine was pressing fast forward on this _thing_ between them -except the sex ( _thanks, Paul_ ). It couldn't be this easy, to just meet someone at your job, spend a week at their house and suddenly you were a couple? Emma kicked the sand. She needed more time to adjust to having someone in her life like this.

Especially now that she was beginning to mix the Jane part of her mind with the Paul part. It was easier when she had kept them separated. Like the Paul thing wasn't real, as long as he didn't mix with Jane and that very real pain. She stopped walking and took a deep breath. Maybe it was time to break down the barrier and properly mix them? She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

If Jane had been alive, Emma would have told her where she was spending the quarantine. Jane would have pestered her until she did. Emma would have told her about Paul and Jane would have _loved_ to hear about him. She would have demanded to meet him the moment they could, and she would have teased Emma about liking someone. Emma wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. Jane would have gushed and asked a trillion questions about Paul, all of varying degrees of interesting. _What is his favorite dish? Does he want pets? How many siblings does he have? When did he learn to ride a bike?_ And Emma would have rolled her eyes and said _Who the fuck cares?_

Tom would be gruff and a little rude and Paul would be flustered and awkward. He'd like Jane though. They would team up and bug Emma and Tom until they helped cleaning up. They'd be fucking annoying, actually. The thought was somewhere between funny and sad, and it made her chuckle darkly. She opened her eyes and continued walking.

The fresh air and open water was helping her get rid of the tense knot in her stomach. _Ahh_ , it was nice to be away. She spotted a couple of people walking their dog, heading towards her. Emma smiled politely at them, when they got closer. It was a middle aged couple, and they were holding hands. They returned the smile and the dog ran over to Emma, barking and jumping happily.

Emma exchanged a few pleasantries with the couple, praising their dog and apologizing to it, because she couldn't pet it. Even though they didn't talk much, just having spoken to other people lifted her spirits quite a bit.

She walked a little further, trying to prepare herself to head back to Paul's. So, she didn't like how fast it was going, but she also didn't want to go back to her apartment. That meant she had to find a way to get things to slow down. _Ugh._ That probably meant _talking_. She turned around and headed back to her car, now walking a lot slower. At one point she stopped at the edge of the water and watched the waves. There was a big one that splashed water onto her boots. It started seeping through, making her feet cold and wet.

When she made it back to her car, she sat for a moment in the driver's seat, strumming on the wheel while waiting for the heating to start. Finally Emma started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. She drove around town a little, instead of heading directly back to Paul's. Everything was quiet and shut down. Although she saw one open supermarket, and a few people out taking a walk.

Finally she couldn't drag it out any longer, and drove in the direction towards Paul's house. She parked the car and walked up to his door, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened with every step. The door was unlocked, so she quietly let herself in, and took off her wet boots. When she was hanging up her jacket, Paul appeared. She looked up at him, offering a weak smile.

He was watching her nervously, holding his hands behind him, like he was stopping himself from touching her. Emma hated it. He was acting like she was a scared animal, or a bomb that could go off at any moment. She placed her keys on the dresser, and walked towards the staircase. "I'm gonna put on dry socks," she said, before rushing up the stairs, away from his big worried eyes.

After washing her hands and changing her socks, she sat down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Fuck. Opening up to people was horrible. There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and she looked up at Paul. "Can I come in?" he asked.

"It's your bedroom," she replied dryly.

"Emma, did I do something wrong?" he asked, walking over and sitting down on the other end of the bed. He was keeping a distance.

"No," she replied, crawling backwards, so she could put her legs onto the bed. "I think the whole situation just hit me yesterday."

"Situation?" he repeated the word like a question, moving so he could mirror her by sitting cross-legged in front of her.

"Just you and me, stuck here together. Like a couple. It's... I am not good with this stuff," she said, sucking in a breath. "It's a long story."

"Okay," Paul replied, blinking twice. "I have time."

"Do you remember me saying I was in Guatemala?" she asked. He nodded, so she continued, "Well, I didn't tell you why I came back. I don't tell people about it. I came back because of my sister, Jane. She was the good one. Our parents loved her and every choice she made. She got a nice job, married a sensible man with a steady income and traditional masculine skills, so he could fix the car or build a porch or some shit. She had a kid before she was 30."

Paul was nodding along, encouraging her.

"I am not sure whether my parents actually liked Tom, but they liked what he represented. Jane mapped out her whole life as a kid, and she stuck to it. She was off doing life, and I was doing _something else._ I was in Guatemala, and she would invite me back for the big events, like wedding and baby shower. Every time I would say _sorry I'll catch the next one_. But... when I got the invitation to her funeral, I was like _oh, there won't be a next one._ " Saying it was hard, and Paul's eyes dropped.

"I'm sorry," he said in the most gentle tone, moving closer.

"Her husband and son still live here," she said, "so I came back to be near them. Only Tom's not exactly my biggest fan, so it's not often I spend time with their kid."

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Anyway, the point of this is that I spent so many years not letting people in, and pushing someone I love away, so us getting closer is... scary," she looked at the ceiling and blinked tears away. She was _not_ going to cry in front of Paul!

"Oh," Paul's voice was low, and then there was a hand on her knee. "Can I... do something?"

"I don't know," Emma shrugged, trying to put things back in a lighter mood, "don't you think it's kinda fucking crazy how we didn't even know each other's names a week ago?"

"Definitely," he nodded, cracking a smile, "although I might have been trying to gather the courage to ask about yours for a while."

Emma snorted, unable to keep a smile from appearing. "You're such a nerd, y'know that?"

"Are those kind of comments the type that freak you out?" he asked, moving again, so their knees where inches apart.

"You'd think so, but for some reason it was you asking about dinner that set it off," she replied.

"So... no talking about dinner plans?" He looked amused as he asked.

"Shut up." She shoved his arm. "I told you about Jane, so I did the big part now. I don't like depending on people, but here I am."

"I am glad you told me," he said softly.

"I think one thing that would help, would be if we don't label this. Can we just say we're just getting to know each other?" she asked. Paul nodded, so she leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. "Thanks."

She spent the rest of the day under a blanket on the couch, watching something dumb on Netflix, while Paul worked in the other room. She felt better. Telling him about Jane had helped. It was strange, to have started the day completely overpowered with emotions, only to have them cooled down now. She was exhausted.

She got enough energy to make some quick dinner, and they watched a film afterwards, although Emma spent most if it dozing off on Paul's shoulder.

* * *

On Wednesday the weather was nice and she had no classes, so Emma did her reading in the yard again. She had found two unopened boxes containing thermo mugs in one of the kitchen cabinets. There had been a birthday card underneath one of them. She had asked Paul if she could use one, so she could bring coffee with her outside. He said _of course_ , while staring at the box in her hands like he had forgotten he owned them.

Online studying was okay, even though the other classes were a lot less entertaining than Hidgens' and his theatrical ways in front of the camera. Emma scribbled down notes and tried to make sure the wind didn't steal her papers. After lunch Paul joined her outside, dropping down in the other chair and groaning.

"I don't wanna work today," he said.

"Mood," Emma said, not looking up from her book. She highlighted another sentence.

"Do you wanna go on a walk somewhere?" Paul asked.

"Now?" Emma asked back, still not looking up.

"No just... sometime this week. Getting out of the house might be nice," he explained. This made her look up.

"Paul, are you saying you're getting tired of being at home?" she asked, smiling smugly.

"I was thinking about you actually," he replied, returning the smile, "you walk around like a captured polar bear in a zoo."

"I'm sitting here quietly working!" she defended, crossing her arms.

"I was considering inviting Charlotte out for a walk, she's worried because her husband is out on patrol all the time," Paul said.

"You do that," Emma shrugged, looking back at her book. The idea wasn't bad though. Maybe she could meet Tom and Tim outside?

When she finished the chapter, she put down the book and looked at Paul again. He looked like he could be sleeping, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed. Emma smiled fondly as she watched his chest move up and down. "Stop staring at me, creep," Paul said, not opening his eyes. It made her laugh. Things had been pretty good since Monday. She wasn't sure how much of their behavior had actually changed, but it was still better somehow. Paul knew and he seemed absolutely okay with it. There was something ironic about them both needing things to go slow, but in completely different ways. Being stuck together put everything on the line. Although she supposed they weren't actually stuck, since she had seen an open supermarket and would be able to get food, but she liked being here. Paul was the obvious reason why, but she would be lying if she said the backyard wasn't also a big reason. She genuinely just loved being out here.

"Did I ever show you a picture of Tim, my nephew?" she asked.

"No," Paul said, sitting up. Emma moved her chair closer, and scrolled through her pictures until she found the one she was looking for. She had visited them after Christmas, and she and Tim had a snow fight. She had taken a picture of him, because he had snow everywhere, in his hair and eyebrows and scarf. When they were sitting inside, she had taken a few more as he opened the present from her. The best picture was when he looked up at her, grinning from ear to ear. His hair was a massive mop on his head and his cheeks were red.

"He's cute," Paul said.

"Yeah," Emma agreed, "and a good kid too. I miss him."

"Have you called him?" he asked.

"No, but I might see if I can get them out on a walk, like you and Charlotte," she said.

"Good idea," Paul said.

"Yeah," Emma agreed, "I hope Tom thinks so too."

"I'm sure he will," Paul said, and kissed her shoulder. "Bill and Alice are begging me to get to meet you."

"I am pretty sure they have met me," she said, a challenging tone to her voice, "they've been to Beanie's."

"Yeah well. They are both weirdly invested in my life," he said, making his eyes comically big.

"Can't imagine why," Emma joked. Paul poked her in the side with a _hey_. Revealing that she was ticklish really had been a mistake. "It sounds like we have a lot of walks to plan."

"It does," Paul smiled. She regarded him for a moment.

"You're totally sick of being at home," she said with a grin.

* * *

They went back inside not long after. Paul stopped in the doorway to the dining room, looking at his laptop. "Can I just _not_ work today?"

"I don't know, dude." Emma shrugged. "When do you need to turn in the weekly reports?"

"By the end of tomorrow," he said, looking back at the laptop and sighing.

"It's highly hypocritical of me to give this advice, but you should probably not wait until last minute," Emma said, clapping his arm. She turned away and headed for the bedroom, where she was pretty sure she had left her phone charger.

She plugged her phone in and sat down on the bed. She opened the text chain with Tom, and sighed. After some rewrites she ended with a text saying _Hi Tom. How are you guys doing? I was wondering if you and Tim wanted to meet up somewhere outside and take a walk some day? It would be nice to see him, I promise to keep the appropriate distance. Let me know. Emma._

After sending it she put down the phone and got up. Paul was standing in the doorway, watching her fondly. "Now who's the creep?" she asked with a grin, walking towards him.

"I like to think of myself as more of a stalker," Paul joked, walking to meet her in the middle of the room.

"Ah, right." Emma snapped her fingers and pointed at him. " _That's_ why you kept harassing me at work." She stopped in front of him, looking up and smirking.

"Definitely," Paul said, placing a hand on her hip, "I must say, you made my stalking much easier by practically moving in."

"Well, when a guy is willing to tip five bucks for a shitty cup of coffee, it makes you wonder how he'll pay for other services," she said, giving him a seductive look as a joke. Paul laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What are you doing to me?" he muttered, and then he kissed her. The hand on her hip moved to the small of her back, so he could pull her closer against him. Emma wrapped her arms around him, letting herself get lost in the kiss. She was surprised by the boldness he was expressing, and how much she liked it. His other hand moved to the back of her head, pulling out the hairclip holding her hair, so it tumbled down.

He kissed her deeply, not with urgency or hunger, but with a strong yearning. Emma held onto him tightly, pressing herself as close to him as possible. They were slowly moving deeper into the room, closer to the bed. She was getting a little breathless, and she kept waiting for him to pull back and awkwardly move away, like he always did. However, when he did pull back, he looked at her with dark eyes, and his hands fell down to her hips, and his thumbs hooked themselves underneath the hem of her shirt. _Oh._

"Paul, we haven't been on a date," Emma said, unable to stop herself from teasing him.

"Is that okay?" he asked in a low voice, looking a little uncertain, while he began to slowly move her shirt upwards.

"It's _very_ okay," she replied, getting short of breath from the feeling of his thumbs trailing up her stomach, "don't stop on my account." It made Paul let out a little chuckle. He was still inching her shirt up further in a painfully slow pace, and Emma lost her patience and pulled it off herself. She dropped it onto the floor next to them and with satisfaction noted how Paul didn't even look at it. It was good to know that her nakedness could get him to stop caring about laundry. His eyes roamed over her torso, drinking her in. Then, as if on cue, they moved forward, kissing each other again. Emma' hands began clumsily opening all the buttons on his shirt. He had a hand in her hair and another on her side, holding onto her tightly. She was finally able to push the shirt down his shoulders, and he stopped kissing her, so he could remove it and the t-shirt underneath. He dropped both next to hers and then he kissed her again, hungrier than before. His hands were everywhere, pressing her up against him, like he couldn't touch enough of her. It was making her impatient for _more._ Emma was holding onto his shoulder with one hand, and she moved the other one down to grab his ass. It made him laugh.

"It's what I can reach from down here," she joked, before kissing him harder.

It started to seem pointless to stand up and make out, when there was a perfectly good bed right next to them. Once they were horizontal and he was on top of her, she wrapped a leg around his hip, pressing him down against her, and they both moaned into the kiss. It had taken some time from her shirt was removed, until he had actually started touching her boobs, so she should have predicted that he would stop kissing her, and gently ask if it was okay, before he started opening her jeans.

"Paul," she said, through her heavy breathing, "I don't think - I could have been clearer - about how super _fucking_ okay I am with this."

"Sorry," he breathed, kissing her again with a newfound desperation. And then he opened her jeans. Emma didn't wait, or drag anything out, she just went straight to opening his belt and zipper and pushing his pants down. Paul was struggling to remove her jeans.

"I think - maybe I should just -" she panted, sitting up, indicating she would remove the jeans herself. Paul rolled off, taking his own pants and socks off. Emma looked at him and smiled, still out of breath. They resumed kissing, and she couldn't help but roll her hips against him. The feeling of their naked skin touching was making her lightheaded. Paul might have been an awkward nerd, but he was one hell of a kisser, and he was surprisingly efficient when he opened her bra. Emma flipped them over and trailed kisses up and down his chest and neck, before leaning close to his ear and with a whisper asking where he kept his condoms.

As far as first times with someone went, Emma was quite impressed, and it wasn't just because of the anticipation beforehand. They were surprisingly compatible, even with their height difference. Paul took his time making sure she was satisfied, and he kept kissing her and looking at her like she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. She really liked his hands and the way it felt to be pressed into the mattress underneath him. Getting to see him completely unraveled was even better than she had imagined. Especially when he stopped being able to form actual words.

Afterwards, they were both catching their breaths, lying on their backs. Emma's skin was sticking to the cover underneath her and her hair was a mess. Paul looked at her, almost as if he was waiting for something. Like he was worried she would tell him it was bad or something? Or that she was about to leave. She reached out her hand and intertwined her fingers with his. Emma knew she would get cold soon, and they probably should crawl underneath the covers, but she liked that she could see everything. She could finally enjoy the full view of a naked and sweaty Paul. She looked him up and down, admiring the long lines of his body. Paul squeezed her hand gently.

Their eyes met, and she broke into a teasing smile. "I can't believe you skipped work to have sex with me."

" _Shut uuup_ ," Paul groaned, sounding embarrassed, as he rolled over so he could bury his face between her neck and shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her.

"You're wonderfully ridiculous, you know?" she said after a moment, and he looked up at her. They shared a long, soft kiss, and then Paul placed his head on her chest.

"What now?" he asked. Emma drew patterns on his back with her fingertips as she thought it over.

"Well..." she said, smiling to herself, "I was thinking you could make me pancakes for dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING! Let me knoooow if you liked this chapter.
> 
> Also, a bonus picture for y'all. While Emma is out angst-ing on the beach, you can imagine Paul back at the house, listening to _She's So High_ by Tal Bachman and being a sad pining boi. Haha.
> 
> There is one more chapter on the way, and then I might do a post-corona epilogue. Since, y'know, I can't stop writing this and I feel like seeing how they'll date under normal circumstances would be interesting after this. Maybe I just don't like writing endings? Who knows? ;)


	5. Time flies when you're in lockdown!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is fucking l o n g u e y'all. Prepare yourself.

Tom had replied that they would like to go on a walk, so Friday in the late afternoon Emma was bouncing around, feeling on edge. Paul had asked his work friends to meet up for a walk as well, so she was dropping him off downtown before meeting Tom and Tim by the beach.

Paul was watching her with amusement as she packed hand gel and wrapped a scarf around her neck and face. "What's that fucking look about?" she asked, a hint of challenge in her tone.

"Nothing," he said, smiling fondly.

"Good," Emma said, walking over and wrapping her arms around his waist, "because I don't wanna hear any smartass comments."

"I would never," Paul said, a playful gleam in his eyes. He tugged down the scarf, so he could kiss her. Emma gave a pleased sigh, kissing him back. His hand snuck in under her jacket, pushing her a little closer. For a moment Emma forgot her usual nervousness before having to talk to Tom. But unfortunately she was called back to reality.

"Oh shit, we gotta go," Emma said, pulling back.

"Right, sorry," Paul nodded. Emma smirked, leaning in so she could give his ass a quick squeeze.

"To be continued," she promised.

"Looking forward to it," Paul sent her a dopey smile. Emma grinned back, before turning around and putting on her boots. She grabbed the two thermo mugs with coffee and then she was ready. They drove to a small stretch of park in downtown. Or, it was supposed to be a park but it was mostly jut alleyways lined with shrubs. Emma had no idea why Paul was meeting people here of all places.

She parked the car, and Paul gathered his things. He looked hesitant, probably because he wanted to kiss her goodbye but didn't know if it was okay. Emma looked out the window of the car, spotting four people watching them intently. _Crap._ She rolled her eyes, grabbed Paul by the collar and gave him a quick kiss. He was blushing a little as she let go. "Okay, get out of here," she said. He grabbed his coffee and then he was out the door with a _byeeee_.

She watched him walk over to the others, waving at them. One of them looked like the teenage girl from the photograph, only older now. She was bouncing up and down as Paul approached them, seeming like she wanted to give him a hug. The three others waved at Emma in the car, and she fought the urge to flip them off. Instead she did a salute, before driving off. She was certain Paul was being bombarded with questions now.

She could see Tom's truck on the parking lot already. _Shit_ , she hoped they hadn't been waiting long. They were easy to find, and Emma waved as she made her way towards them. Tom was standing by the water, watching Tim run around.

"You're late," Tom stated matter-of-factly when she reached him.

"Sorry, sorry," Emma said, even though she was sure it was only a few minutes, "I had to drop _someone_ off."

"Hm," Tom said, just as Tim ran over to her.

"Aunt Emma!" he called, grinning widely.

"Hey Tim! Remember to keep the distance, yeah?" Emma said, unable to stop the smile from appearing on her face. She loved that kid so much, it was stupid. "How's being home-schooled going?" she asked. Tim rolled his eyes.

"Boring!" he replied. He seemed in good spirits, the whole situation considered.

"I agree," she said, "I have to take online classes and it sucks."

"Shall we walk?" Tom asked. Emma nodded and then they made their way along the beach. Tim kept spotting things he wanted to look at and running away from them, yelling back if it was interesting. Tom had to remind him not to touch things several times. There wasn't much to say to Tom, and he didn't seem like he wanted to talk to her. Emma was considering bolting over to Tim to stare at the seaweed he was currently poking with his foot, when Tom cleared his throat.

"Who were you dropping off?"

"Oh - um," Emma looked out at the water, taking a sip of coffee. "A guy. He's - uh - a guy. I have been staying with him for most of the lockdown." No need to reveal all of it.

"Huh," Tom grunted. They continued walking, and Emma drank more coffee. She figured that was all, but then Tom spoke again. "Have you known him long?"

"Known who?" Tim's voice piped up. She hadn't even noticed he had joined them again.

"No one," Emma said to Tim, before looking at Tom, "he's one of the regulars at Beanie's."

"He's _clearly_ someone," Tim said smugly, "You have a boyfriend!"

" _No,_ " Emma insisted. She heard Tom snort. _Ugh, fuck._

"What's that?" Tim asked, distracted by something by the edge of the water again. He ran towards it, and yelled back "Aunt Emma! I think it's a crab shell!"

"Cool!" Emma yelled, setting off after him. They looked at many shells and pretty rocks, running back and forth whenever a big wave hit. When Emma looked back at Tom, he was talking on the phone. Tim squealed as water splashed onto his rubber boots.

"It's too bad we can't bring any of this stuff home," he said, sounding like he had been thinking it over a lot. It reminded Emma so much of Jane, who loved finding shit on trips and always brought a new rock home from her vacations. Emma had brought back the prettiest rock she could find in Guatemala, placing it next to the flowers on Jane's grave. She swallowed as Tim looked up at her. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah," Emma said, waving her hand, "I just agree. That white rock from earlier was nice."

"Mom would have liked it," Tim said, sniffling a little. If only she could hug him!

"She would," Emma agreed. They stood in silence for a moment, looking out at the water. Then Emma decided to change the mood. "Bet you I can reach your dad first!" she declared, before dashing forward.

"Cheater!" Tim yelled, running after her. Emma laughed, and she could hear him join in. She didn't run as fast as she could, but she was still surprised by him catching up to her so fast. The ran side by side, until they reached Tom, and then spent the next five minutes discussing who won. Emma claimed she won because she reached her 6 feet distance from Tom first, but Tim insisted he won by default since he was the only one who could reach his dad.

They started heading back, all three of them walking together now. Tim was telling his dad about all the things they had seen, and how he wanted to go fishing for crabs when it was summer time. Emma let them talk, instead thinking about how Tom kind of knew about Paul now. It was nice to stop lying, but it also made everything more real. She shook her head, she was taking baby steps and that was okay.

"This was a good idea," Tom said, when they reached the parking lot. Tim was leaning against him and Tom had his hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks," Emma said, "it was actually not mine. It was that guy - Paul - who had it. I just copied it for us."

Tom shrugged, like he wasn't surprised. "Perhaps we can do it again, if the lockdown continues."

"I'd love that," Emma said. They looked like they were about to leave, and it was making her oddly panicked, like she had to hold on tighter to keep them. "Hey, um. _Thanks_. For seeing me."

"You're welcome," Tom said, "Tim's fond of you, so..."

"It's mutual," Emma said. Her skin felt tight and weird under Tom's gaze. Talking earnestly about her feelings _sucked._

 _"_ Seems like that Peter guy is a good influence," Tom said, nodding at her.

"It's Paul, actually," Emma corrected.

"Sure," Tom said, "we're gonna go. Gotta buy some groceries."

"Bye, Tim." She waved at him, hating that she couldn't give him a hug and mess up his hair.

"Bye, Aunt Emma!" Tim waved back.

She disinfected her hands and then she pulled out her phone. She sent Paul a message, asking where he was, so she could pick him up. She crawled into her car and turned on the radio, while she waited for a reply.

Tom was a difficult man to be around, but she like how easy it was with Tim. He had been a little wary of her when they first met, but it didn't take long before he liked talking to her. Probably because she didn't seem like a real adult. She had missed so much of his life already, and she wasn't going to let that happen any longer. She was going to be a proud aunt, showing up for shit and letting him know she cared. Probably embarrass the fuck out of him when he became a teenager. It was going to be great! There was still no reply from Paul, so she decided to stop by her apartment and pick up more clothes.

* * *

When she was walking back to her car, Paul replied with a location tag. She found him in a fucking alleyway, not far from where she dropped him off, talking to his coworkers. He didn't notice her at first, so she honked at him. He just turned around and waved her over, so she responded by flipping him off.

When that didn't make him come to the car, she groaned loudly, turned off the car and jumped out. She marched up to them. "Hey asswipe, want a ride or not?" she asked, smirking at him. Paul laughed and the others stared at her, so she nodded at them.

"We were just saying goodbye," Paul replied, rolling his eyes. "Everyone, this is Emma."

"We don't have to-" she started, but was interrupted by a chorus of _nice to meet you_ 's and one _I knew it was you_. Of course the last bit was said by the creepy moustache guy.

"This is Charlotte," Paul said, gesturing to a redhead with a pink headband and a long floral skirt. "Ted," Paul pointed to the moustache, and Emma noticed he and Charlotte were not standing with a six feet distance. "Bill and his daughter Alice," Paul ended with. Emma nodded at all four of them.

"Thought this was a work friends thing?" she asked dryly, gesturing to the girl.

"Alice needed a walk too," Bill said.

"Plus, I had _a lot_ of questions for Paul," Alice said, clearly fighting a big smile.

"Hopefully not about me," Emma said. Paul laughed nervously next to her. Luckily Alice just grinned.

"You gotta understand, there is hardly ever any gossip about Paul," she said.

"I believe you, he's a pretty boring guy," Emma joked. It made the Ted dude bark up a laugh.

"Sorry to hear that, Paul," he smiled mischievously, "guess you gotta spice things up a bit for her, eh?"

"Ted!" Bill warned, tilting his head towards his daughter. Alice crossed her arms.

"Dad, I know what sex is," she protested. Emma glanced at Paul, who looked like he wanted everyone to stop talking, but also like he hadn't expected this to go any differently.

"Thank you for the walk," Charlotte said, before anyone could continue, "it was nice to get out of the house. It's just me and the cat. Sam's saying he can't come home, in case he'll end up infecting me."

"Is he sick?" Emma asked.

"No, but he's a cop, so he has to be on patrol and help guide people outside," Charlotte explained, smiling proudly, "he's very dedicated."

"Right," Emma said. She hadn't heard of anyone being sick _in_ Hatchetfield.

"Yeah this was nice," Bill agreed, "Alice, we should head back home. We promised to call your mom."

"Oh yeah," she nodded, "Deb asked if we wanted to watch _Mamma Mia_ tonight. Try that new Netflix Party function."

"Uh, yeah, we'll see if it works," Bill replied, brushing it off a little. "Goodbye everyone. Take good care of yourselves."

"Bye!" Alice waved, before looking at Emma " _Great_ to meet you!" Then she followed her dad, sending one silly grimace back at Paul.

"I'm going to find my car," Charlotte said, "take care!" She walked off.

"My car is that way too." Ted pointed his thumb backwards in Charlotte's direction. "Oh, and sweetheart, it was great seeing _some of you_ on the conference call last week," he said, winking at Emma.

"Ted!" Paul hissed.

"I'm sorry you have to wait for your friends getting laid, before you get to see a bit of ass on a video call," Emma said, crossing her arms.

"Fuck you ," Ted replied, "actually no, I wouldn't."

"Oh no - that hurts _all three_ of my feelings," Emma replied sarcastically. Ted did a snorting laugh, and nodded, like he respected her comeback game. She nodded back.

"Bye, Ted," Paul said through his teeth. Emma raised her middle finger at Ted as she started to walk back to the car. Before Paul could open the door, she made a protesting noise and held out the hand gel.

"So that was your work friends," she said when they were on the road back to his house.

"Yeah," Paul said, "well, I guess Bill is more than a work friend."

"They're an interesting bunch," she said, not sure what else to add. Paul just nodded, chuckling a little. "Are Ted and Charlotte fucking?"

"What?" Paul's head snapped up, looking at her.

"They weren't keeping a distance, and he was clearly lying about the car," Emma explained.

"You're clever," he smiled, "yeah, probably. Bill and I haven't confirmed it completely, but we've suspected it for a while."

Emma laughed. "You and Bill have gossip sessions?"

"Sometimes," Paul said nonchalantly. "Charlotte's husband is such a dick. Obviously she shouldn't cheat, but that asshole just strings her along and uses her."

"When you say asshole, do you mean Ted or her husband?" Emma asked, making a turn down on his road.

"Her husband," Paul said, "Ted's a sleazeball, but he seems to care about her."

"Huh," Emma said. She parked, and they made their way into the house. When the mandatory hand washing was over, they cuddled up on the couch. She rested against his chest face down, and Paul wrapped his arms around her. He pulled out her hairclip, and ran his fingers through her hair, before beginning to gently massage her scalp. She hummed under her breath and closed her eyes.

"How was it today?" he asked.

"Good," she replied, "Tim and I looked at crab shells, seaweed and rocks."

"Sounds fun," Paul said.

"He's such a good kid," Emma sighed. She wanted to talk more, but what Paul was doing to her scalp felt so good, it was turning her bones to jelly. "He just... zooms around. It's great."

That's nice," Paul murmured, inching himself down to a more horizontal position.

" _Mhmmm_ ," Emma hummed. She paused, and then she looked up at him. "I told Tom I was staying with someone."

Paul's jaw dropped. "Your... your brother in law knows you're staying with me?"

Emma nodded, and Paul craned his neck down so he could kiss her. She crawled a bit forward, making it easier for him to reach her. She was thankful that he seemed to get her, and what telling Tom meant. For others it might not be a big deal, but it was for her. It was a good sign that he got it - got her. "He even said you seemed to have a good influence on me," she whispered in between kisses.

" _Oh_ , did he now?" Paul asked, sounding way too pleased with himself.

"Don't let it get to your head," Emma said. She moved around, so she was straddling him, looming over his face.

"It's too late," he smirked, placing his hands on her hips, "it already has."

"What should we do about that?" Emma asked. She tapped her fingers on his collarbone, like she was thinking it over.

"I think you should show all my good influence some gratitude," he suggested, smiling in a way that was almost suggestive, "by making out with me for instance?"

Emma leaned down, so their mouths were under an inch apart. " _Ask. Nicely_."

"Please?" he asked in a low voice, and the sound of it made warmth spread through her stomach. She had been planning on dragging it out more, but she gave in, moving down and capturing his mouth in a deep kiss. Paul's hands were still on her hips and he kissed her back eagerly. They were still on a more exploring state, figuring each other out after that first time Wednesday afternoon. Paul had made them pancakes for dinner, like she asked for. When they had gone to bed that night, Emma had taken off all her clothes and crawled under the covers. Paul had stared at her like she had never seen a naked woman before. He had seemed a little surprised by her initiative, when she had asked if he was up for round two, but he had seemed pretty into the idea after that.

He seemed less worried she was going to run off now, which was good. She was getting the impression he was never going to be the type of guy who would surprise her and just take her on the kitchen floor. So far he had always hesitated first, giving her more than one option to nope out. Emma was surprised by how much she appreciated that. He never wanted to make her uncomfortable, and it made feel really valued. Plus, if she was being honest, she was spontaneous enough for the both of them.

"Emma," Paul said, pulling back a little, "should we order some food?"

She wanted to make a comment about him thinking about food at a time like this, but she was pretty hungry herself, so she let it slide. "Good idea," she said, before giving him another lingering kiss.

"I'm full of good ideas," he said.

She grinned, sitting up straighter . "I knew I kept you around for a reason."

"I thought it was for the pancakes?" Paul joked.

"Oh yeah, that too," she said, smiling coyly. "I can think of a few things actually," she whispered, before trailing kisses down his neck. She had discovered he really liked that, and she was definitely using that knowledge to her advantage.

" _Hmmm,"_ was all the response she got out of him. His hands tightened their grip on her hips. She pulled back and sent him an evil smile.

"So, food?" she asked innocently, before crawling off him. He let out a frustrated laugh and sat up.

"Okay," he said, pulling out his phone, beginning to look for food. "Okay," he repeated. Emma bumped their shoulders together, and they shared a little laugh. They agreed on Indian food, and then they waited for the delivery.

Emma wanted to watch _Tiger King_ while eating dinner, because her class-mates kept referencing it in their group chat. Paul agreed, although he had no idea what it was. Emma didn't either, but she at least had heard it was _insane_. It didn't take long before they were both completely captivated, yelling at the TV, laughing and gasping. Emma nearly sprayed beer everywhere several times, when something shocked her.

They kept discussing what they had seen, while they cleaned up their dinner. Emma wanted another beer, and Paul agreed. He kissed her gently, cupping her jaw. Then he pulled back and asked if she wanted to watch another episode.

In the end they had to stop, so they could get some sleep and not binge the whole thing in one night. "I'm just saying, she definitely killed her husband," Emma said, while they stood in the bathroom, brushing their teeth.

"We don't know that," Paul said, rolling his eyes, "y'know, they can do so much with editing and leaving out things. We treat documentaries as the truth, but they can really twist stuff around."

Emma blew a raspberry, accidentally sending a bit of toothpaste flying onto the mirror. Paul gave her a look, before taking some toilet paper and wiping it off. "That woman is shady, is all I'm saying. She laughs way too much at her own jokes. Or, they aren't even jokes. It's just stuff she says to the camera really."

"She does do that, yeah," Paul agreed, "but I'm way more creeped out by Doc Antle. That dude is beyond disgusting."

"Oh definitely," Emma agreed, "Ted seems like an angel, compared to him."

Paul started laughing, a deep and uncontrolled belly-laugh and Emma couldn't help the smile that broke out on her face. He really was quite endearing. She left him to do his flossing, walking back into the bedroom, looking at the things in there. The hamper was full, ready for laundry day tomorrow. _God_ , he was such a nerd. He had a chair in here, and he didn't even leave laundry on it. Weirdo. She looked into the trash can next to his bedside table. He also remembered to empty it daily, so there weren't old condoms lying in it. She had to give him that it was a good habit, not that she would ever remember to do it.

She hadn't heard him come in, but suddenly arms wrapped around her, and a soft kiss was pressed onto her neck. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," Paul replied into her skin. They stood there for a moment, enjoying the closeness. Then Emma turned around and pushed Paul onto the bed. He rested on his elbows and watched her with laughter and anticipation in his eyes, while she crawled up and straddled him. Paul smiled at her, waiting patiently for her to take the lead. Emma began opening his shirt, holding eye contact and smiling. After pushing it open, she began kissing his neck and shoulder, pushing the t-shirt down to expose his collarbone.

When she finally kissed him on the lips, his hand buried itself in her hair and held her close. Maybe he wasn't the spontaneous _I gotta have you now_ type, but there was such a hunger to the way he kissed her and touched her. She felt completely _wanted,_ and that was much better than spontaneity. Emma noticed that he was getting a little bolder though. Like now, moving his hand down to grab her ass. She hummed under her breath and deepened the kiss. She was running her hands up slowly up and down his chest, and both of them were getting a little out of breath.

Paul flipped them over, grinning before he continued kissing her. Emma couldn't help laughing as his fingers ran up her side, tickling her a little. She felt like she could spend all night rolling around on the bed, making out with Paul. Probably without the clothes though.

She sent his shirt flying to the floor, and he tried to take off her jeans in a smooth way, kissing her leg all the way down as he exposed it. It didn't work so well, because he had to switch back and forth between the legs and he ended up having to step off the bed to get the jeans off her ankles. It made them both laugh. Emma sat up on her knees and started opening his pants, letting them fall down, while he lifted off his t-shirt. When he crawled back onto the bed, he tripped in the pants and fell over, knocking them both down. Emma let out a small shriek, mostly as a joke.

"Sorry," he laughed, rolling off her and running a hand through his hair.

"You are one elegant motherfucker," Emma teased. She remembered hearing people saying that being able to laugh in the bedroom was good. Back then she had thought it was bullshit. Now, she had to agree. Fiery, gasping passion was good and all, but the ease that came with lying next to Paul and laughing was somehow better.

Not that she didn't like it, when they fell quiet, and nothing could be heard but their deep breaths, the sounds of the bed and the occasional moan. She did like that. _A lot_. She liked that Paul always looked her in the eyes to make sure she was on board with everything, and that he was still a little awkward about opening the condom.

Since they started all of this, he hadn't said too sweet or sappy things. Definitely because he was trying to respect her need for things to go slow, but today, in the middle of everything, he looked at her, cupped her face and whispered "You're so beautiful." Emma didn't know how to respond, and just kissed him, before holding onto him tighter and burying her face in his shoulder.

When they were going to sleep, he snaked an arm around her waist, and kissed the top of her head. She let him, on account of all the good sex they had just had.

"By the way....that lady definitely killed her husband and fed him to the tigers," she said into the darkness. Paul laughed and told her to be quiet.

* * *

The weekend was spent with Emma mostly just dressed in one of Paul's button-down shirts, baking and dancing around. She only got properly dressed when they went on a walk in the neighborhood just the two of them. Paul did the laundry and Emma decided she would be a good person and help vacuum. She _hated_ vacuuming, which she took the time to remind him several times, pointing out how flattered he should be.

They finished _Tiger King_ , and Emma spent two full hours just reading theories about the disappeared husband. Paul listened intently to her retelling it all over dinner. It was easy to forget that the world was in the middle of a crisis, when she spent the weekend hardly dressed, eating and being weird with Paul.

However, the following week she was back to reality. The president Howard Goodman addressed the people in a press conference, talking about the number of deaths and hospitalized Americans. Plus, online classes were still happening.

On Tuesday they all received an email from Professor Hidgens, with the subject: _ZOOM BETRAYED US - ALL CLASSES HELD OVER DISCORD NOW_. The email just contained links to various news articles about Zoom and their security breaches. Emma's first instinct was to laugh, then she groaned at the thought of figuring out a new program.

Professor Hidgens spent the first ten minutes of his next class doing a very sad monologue about _Zoom._ He was distracted from it, when one of the students asked him about the covid-19 and how its infection worked. He started explaining, gesturing wildly. Emma paid attention to it, since the guy knew his shit.

" _I theorized this exact scenario 30 years ago!"_ Hidgens ended his answer.

"Really? Exactly this?" Emma asked.

"You better believe it!" Hidgens said, looking dramatically up somewhere behind the camera, while playing with his earlobe. Emma couldn't help but smile. He was probably the most interesting person she had ever met. She wondered how he was doing. Maybe she should drop by some groceries again?

* * *

The days went by, and time lost meaning a little for every hour. Emma was struggling with keeping a routine. It helped that Paul seemed to be made of routines, and she ended up following his lead with many things, like brushing her teeth when he did. At first she was convinced she would be able to remember it herself, but somehow she forgot, instead turning her days into one long stream of coffee. It seemed a little ridiculous to copy Paul, but it became necessary.

They took turns picking movies, and Emma was trying to test how much singing he could handle. He seemed to be able to sit through Heath Ledger singing in _10 Things I Hate About You_ , but he did frown when the scene began. Emma took the opportunity to tell him that it was Jane's favorite, and that she had always thought it was the peak of romance.

"Him, singing to her in front of everyone?" Paul scoffed, "putting her on the spot? I would have died."

"The point is that _he's_ the one embarrassing himself, dummy," Emma said. Paul just shook his head.

She liked most of the stuff he suggested, he had a pretty all round taste in films, like _Jurassic Park_ and _Scary Movie._ When he suggested _Wayne's World,_ she knew she had picked the right guy to quarantine with. They also started playing some of his board games. After having Emma repeatedly destroyed him in a two-person version of _Cards Against Humanity_ they made up _,_ Paul decided to teach her _Settlers of Catan_. The game seemed to bring a serious competitor out in him, which Emma found incredibly amusing. It was very different from playing _Go Fish!_ with him on the floor of Beanie's. His playful cockiness there had been attractive, but this was a whole other ballpark. If she hadn't been so intent on winning, she would have jumped his bones.

One early evening, they were sitting on the back porch, enjoying a glass of wine, when Emma got a notification that Adam Schlesinger was getting better after being infected with corona, and she decided that the only way to celebrate was to get wine drunk and listen to _Fountains of Wayne._

She made them food, while dancing around in the kitchen. Paul helped, chopping things for her. She was currently testing how many times she could play _Stacy's Mom_ in a row, before he either got annoyed or joined her in dancing around. So far there were no results. When the lasagna was in the oven, she sat down in his lap and kissed him. She poured more wine in their glasses. "It's a weekday," Paul said, and Emma clamped her hands around his face.

"So fucking what?" she asked, "Paul, we need some fun."

After dinner Paul cleaned the dishes, while Emma nursed another glass of wine. She was feeling pretty good, all warm and happy. Paul handed her a glass of water, which she emptied in three big gulps. He put down the last dish, and leaned against the counter. He looked over at her with soft eyes. His cheeks were a little red, and his hair was a bit messy.

"Ready to get your ass whooped in Settlers?" Emma asked. They had an unfinished game from last night waiting on the coffee table.

"My ass is not the one currently being whooped," Paul said, and Emma snickered. "I think you're pretty far behind."

" _Pfffh,"_ Emma said, crossing her arms, "you're exploiting me with your cruel sheep empire."

"It's not cruel," Paul defended, also crossing his arms and smirking.

"Listen buddy," Emma wagged her finger at him, "I will defeat you. Just prepare yourself."

"I'm excited to see _how_ you're gonna do that," he just replied smugly. Emma made a scandalized noise. She grabbed another bottle of wine and opened it. Then she carried it, her water and wine glass into the living room, with Paul following behind her.

She didn't actually know how she was going to beat him and his fucking cruel sheep empire. She still had the wheat, but he drove a hard bargain and it was not looking good. They drank wine and played, bickering and teasing each other. Paul was way too smug and Emma was being more and more of a brat as the wine disappeared and Paul got closer to winning.

"Oh, I am sorry Emma, I think I'll need more than that if I am going to trade this," Paul said mockingly, clearly not sorry at all. He took a sip of wine. "You just simply don't have _enough_ to offer me."

" _Fine,_ " Emma grumbled, before getting an idea. She tilted her head and looked at him. "What about this wheat _and_ a blowjob?"

The flustered noise he made was priceless. Like he was spraying air out of his mouth. She smiled all satisfied and evil. Paul took another big sip of wine. "Uh, I am not sure that's a currency that works _in game."_

Emma sipped her own wine. "So that's a no to a blowjob tonight then?" she asked, enjoying the temptation and frustration in his eyes.

"Yes. No. _Uh_." He ran a hand through his hair. He looked at the board, his eyes roaming around like he was trying to calculate something. Then he looked up and smiled knowingly. "Okay, I'll take that deal. You can give it to me after the game."

"Deal," Emma said.

It kept her in the game a little longer, but she was still losing. Big time. She inspected the board while emptying her glass. _Goddammit._ She did not want to lose again! He had been so stupidly smug last time! She had to do something!

Paul only needed one more point, so when he lifted his wine glass, she moved forward and knocked the board down to the floor. "Woops," she said in fake innocence. Paul made a face like the Pikachu meme.

"You _didn't_?!" he said in shock.

"It was an accident," she said, grinning. He began picking up all the pieces.

"I won," he said, "you sabotaging the board means I won."

"I don't think so," Emma laughed, letting him clean up, "I'd say it was even."

"Was not," Paul insisted, emptying his glass. He packed the game away, so Emma carried their glasses into the kitchen. Paul appeared in the door. "You owe me payment," he grinned, walking over so he could grab her face with both hands and kiss her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Emma lied.

The smile on Paul's face was soft and amused, and it made her stomach flip. He kissed her gently for a moment, before starting to move towards the bedroom. Emma dashed forward, overtaking him and laughing. "Last person in the bedroom is a loser!" she yelled. She heard him run after her, but luckily the stairs weren't wide enough for him to overtake her. She reached the bedroom and turned around to declare victory, when Paul bumped into her. He yelped in surprise, holding onto her to keep from falling. Their eyes met and then he kissed her hungrily. Emma enjoyed being pressed against the hard lines of his body. She went straight to undressing him, not willing to waste a single moment. It made him chuckle.

Afterwards Emma noticed that he had been wearing his socks the whole time, and started laughing again. He tried to get her to stop by covering her mouth with his hand. She fought back, licking his palm and moving his hand away. They wrestled for a moment and she ended up sitting on top of him, holding his hands over his head. "Who the fuck wears socks during sex?" she asked, still laughing.

"Who sleeps with someone who wears socks during sex?" Paul countered. At first, the look in his eyes was teasing, but when she laughed at his joke, the look softened, like he couldn't believe his luck.

"Touché," Emma said, "so you're the weirdo and I'm the kinky bastard?"

"Sounds like it," Paul said. Then he quickly moved his arms, taking her by surprise. He was free and flipped her over, rolling on top of her. "You're making it very hard to get a full night's sleep."

" _Oh_ ," Emma smirked, "I'm making it _hard?"_

Paul laughed, resting his forehead against her chest. "I made that one too easy, didn't I?"

"Yup." She rested her hands on his ribs. "Although you weren't easy the first week I was here."

She could feel his breath on her skin as he laughed. "You're kind of a dick," he said, trailing kisses all the way up to her mouth. One long, open-mouthed kiss later, he rolled off her and got up. He walked naked around the room, picking up all their clothes, putting it all in the hamper, finally removing the stupid socks. Then he went into the bathroom, returning with two glasses of water.

"Thanks," she said, taking it from his hands and gulping half of it down. Paul turned off the ceiling light, so there was nothing but the warm yellow light from the nightlight. He walked over to his side of the bed.

"It's gonna be good to change the sheets tomorrow," he said, sitting down next to her, sounding way to content. Emma took a moment to question everything she had ever done in her life, since _this guy_ was the best sex she had ever had.

" _Oh my God_ , you're so weird!" she exclaimed, gesturing wildly, "and yet, you're making it sexy. I give up trying to make sense of things."

He laughed at that. "That might be the nicest thing you have ever said to me," he said, looking at her affectionately.

" _Pfffh,_ it's probably the wine," Emma brushed him off. She took another sip of water

"Don't think I've ever been called _sexy_ before," Paul mused.

"That's a shame," Emma said. Or, the alcohol said it. She felt like the words just appeared without her consent. "You're definitely sexy. _A tall fucking drink of water_." She said the last bit in a mock accent, and Paul laughed at her. There was a blush in his cheeks though.

"Come on, you nerd. We should brush our teeth before we go to bed," he said, getting up.

"There is something wrong with your house. It's, like, cursed. I keep forgetting to brush my teeth," Emma said, like she was explaining a conspiracy theory, while following him into the bathroom. She was potentially a bit more drunk than she had initially thought. Brushing her teeth while standing naked was really weird, and she kept starting to laugh.

"I think it's time for you to sleep," Paul said.

" _Fine,"_ she said. He was technically right.

* * *

Paul might be good with routines, but Emma was good at making things happen. If it wasn't for her, Paul would probably not get out of the house much. They took many walks now. Emma went on another one with Tom and Tim, this time in the nearby woods. Tom spent a lot of time on the phone again. Emma appreciated the time alone with Tim, but she was getting a little curious about who he was talking to. Especially after she saw him laugh at one point.

Just like last time, she joined Paul and his friends in the end. Charlotte hadn't joined them this time, apparently her husband was back home now. Alice started asking Emma about community college and her job at Beanie's, and in return talked about school and how much she missed her girlfriend Deb. Bill, Paul and Ted discussed something about work behind them as they walked.

Ted kept cracking jokes about whether Paul had spiced things up yet, or whether he could still keep Emma's interest. Emma let it slide, until Bill and Alice left. Then she made a number out of reminding Paul they needed to go shopping, because they among other things were out of condoms. It was hard to decide what was the best sight, the utterly flustered Paul or the shocked but impressed Ted.

"Congrats, Paul," Ted said, "didn't know you had it in you."

Every day they had the local news playing in the background, keeping up with how things were. When yet another local business had to close down permanently, Emma texted Zoey. _Do you think Beanie's will survive?_ Zoey replied the next morning, while Emma was working. _I have no idea._

 _Great. I do not want to find a new job._ Emma replied. She was surprised by the response. _We'll work together at starbucks, of course_. It made her snort. Paul looked up at her with a silent question. "Just texting Zoey from work," she said.

"Ah. Nice," he responded, returning his attention to his computer.

Emma replied _whatever._ Then a moment later Zoey wrote _So, you still living with Customer Dude?_ Emma smiled to herself, replying a simple _yes._ Zoey's response came faster this time. _Not to be weirdly invested in your sex life, but please tell me you've banged him by now._ The phrasing made her laugh. This time Paul didn't look up, so Emma snuck a glance at him. He was frowning slightly, clearly concentrated. He was wearing a dark green pull-over, and his hair was still damp from his morning shower. He lifted his mug and sipped coffee, not looking away from his screen. Emma's heart thumped. She returned her gaze to the phone screen. _Not that it's any of your business. But yes. A lot._

Zoey replied with about twenty winking emojis. Followed by _damn emma. does this mean you stopped being mean and angry?_ God, Zoey really was the worst. It was surprisingly fun over text. _No, I'll be a mean lil bitch forever._

After class she grabbed her car keys and got dressed for outside. Paul was still working, so she was going to go shopping without him. She gave him a quick kiss and pinched his cheek before leaving. She found the groceries they needed, and then she thought about Professor Hidgens alone in his house. _Dammit_. She wheeled the cart around and went back to the fresh produce. She bought loads of groceries for food that was easy to make and included vegetables, plus two boxes of herbal tea. She carried the bags with her back to the car, getting a little out of breath. Yeah this quarantine shit was making her out of shape.

She drove to Hidgens' house, parking her car. She carried the groceries up to the gate and rang the bell. Shortly after his voice sounded _"who is it?!"_

"Emma Perkins," she replied, "I brought you some fresh groceries."

" _Emma!"_ he replied, " _Alexa, open the gate!"_

She carried the food up the long garden path, stopping in front of his large porch. Hidgens was poking his head out of the upstairs window. "Hey Professor," she said, smiling up at him. He looked paler. He probably didn't go outside much at all, even if he had a secure yard.

"Emma! Have you washed your hands?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "I wore gloves in the store, and I disinfected them several times. I also used hand gel after I came outside of the store. Now, I can just place the groceries here on the porch, okay?"

"Good, good," Hidgens nodded, "good girl!"

"So, one bag has vegetables that'll you'll need to wash _and_ some chicken," she said, lifting one bag, "and the other has stuff in plastic wrapping, which you should be safe from once you remove the wrapping. You should probably put the fresh stuff away quickly. " She lifted the other bag.

"Young lady, you do pay attention!" Hidgens said proudly, "now place it on the porch and then walk about 12 feet away."

Emma did as she was told. She waited until she saw him open the door and grab the groceries. He was dressed in a turtleneck, as always, and a pair of old man pajamas pants. He had also put on plastic gloves and a mask. _Of course_. He waved at her. "If you want anything else, you can tell me, okay?" she said.

"Thank you!" he yelled through the mask, "you're my favorite for a reason, Emma!"

"I know," she said, doing a salute with two fingers. "Take care!"

"You too!" He yelled, before walking inside with the bags. She turned on her heel and went back to her car. She felt good, like she made a difference for someone. She drove home, changed her clothes and washed her hands. Then she started making dinner.

"You're a very sweet person," Paul said to her that night, and she told him to take it back.

"I am a stone cold bitch and you know it," Emma protested.

"Okay, okay," Paul laughed, "you're a stone cold bitch."

* * *

It was getting warmer outside, which was lovely, but it also meant that they had been on lockdown for ages _and_ that exams were drawing near. Emma was not excited about that part. All her exams were going to be big, written assignments, which she hated. Well, one long paper was okay, but writing several around the same time? Yeah that sucked ass.

Paul tried to give her space, letting her work in the guest room. The problem was that he was too damn distracting. She couldn't get up early and start working when there was a half-naked man next to her in the bed. She struggled to get herself to study after dinner, when she could make out with Paul on the couch instead. Not to mention the fact that they had been together in his house for so long, she felt like she was starting to forget what her life was before. Sure, most people in lockdown felt the same, but their _thing_ was brand new - it hadn't existed outside the lockdown. 

Which meant that eventually they had to test it outside of the lockdown.

With the exams looming ahead, Emma was starting to think that this was the time to test it. It took her some time from the thought first appeared, until she actually mentioned it to Paul. They were sitting outside with a cup of coffee on a Saturday afternoon.

"Oh," he said, and his face dropped.

"I mean, I like being here," she said, "but my exams are important, and neither of us planned for me to stay this long."

"I get it," Paul said, "it makes sense. I knew this day would come, so I shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm sorry," Emma added, feeling bad.

"Don't apologize," Paul told her, giving her a smile that didn't fully reach his eyes.

"We can still go on walks," Emma promised, "I gotta get you out of the house sometime."

"I'd like that," he said, and his smile got a bit bigger.

"You're not getting rid of me that easy," she joked.

They spent most of that evening cuddled up together. It was stupid because she wasn't leaving tomorrow, but there was still something final about it. She woke up in the middle of the night, and rolled over, so she could curl herself around Paul's back. She was going to miss falling asleep to his slow breathing.

Emma decided she would go back home Wednesday afternoon. So on Tuesday night, when Paul cleared his throat, she immediately knew what was coming. _Feelings._ "What happens after you go back?" he asked.

"I'll text you loads, because I'll be bored as shit," she replied.

"Great," he grinned, "but I meant with us. What is this?"

"I don't know," she said, "but this isn't the end of it, if that's what you're worried about?"

"A little," he admitted, looking at her nervously, "look, Emma. I know you are scared of these things, and I've been trying to hold it back. But I _really_ like you. So fucking much. I can't believe I got to spend the lockdown with you."

She smiled, feeling warm and a little overwhelmed. "Paul -"

"I would just really, really like to be sure you'll be here when the lockdown ends," he said, "but I don't want to ask that of you."

"I appreciate that you don't," Emma said, scooting closer, "I have not gotten tired off you after spending all this time with you. That's a fucking accomplishment. Like I said, this isn't the end of our thing. It's like... we're broadening it to last outside a bubble."

"When you put it like that, it sounds good," he said with a smile, "I like it."

"Me too," she said. She rested her head on his shoulder and took his hand. She didn't hold his hand often, but tonight was one of those moments. Because it would be the last time for a while, they ended up spending most of that night doing stuff that did _not_ involve sleeping.

Packing up all her shit took forever, since she had spread it all over the damn house. When she had finally made room for it all in her two bags, she got dressed in her jacket and boots. Paul stood in the hall watching her like a sad puppy. "Quit moping, dude," she said, walking over to him. He didn't respond, he just pulled her into a kiss. His arms wrapped around her tightly.

"I'm going to miss you," he said, looking at her with sad eyes. Emma rested her cheek against his chest, hugging his waist.

"You'll finally have space in your bed," she tried joking, "you'll be fine."

Paul responded with a half-hearted chuckle. He rested his head against hers and they stood there for a while, just holding each other. She didn't want to feel sad and mushy, it wasn't the end or anything. She was sad though. She was going to miss him and his dumb routine and the way he looked when he was concentrating. She was going to miss physical contact with another person, but she was mostly going to miss that it was with him. "Emma?"

"Yeah?" she looked up at him.

"I-" he started, clearing his throat, "I'm really glad you showed up at my door."

Emma smiled before she could stop herself. She shoved him lightly. She wanted to say _me too_. She wanted to say she couldn't believe all of this had happened since they were stuck at Beanie's. "So, does all the sex make up for what I owe you, or?" she asked instead.

"I can't believe you!" Paul said, cracking a smile. He kissed her again. "No, you'll be receiving a bill with the mail."

"Right," Emma laughed, "that's really hot, actually."

"I figured," Paul said. He looked serious for a moment. "If you feel the need for paying something, then I'll accept a symbolic amount of money, when you can afford it. But don't worry about the actual amount."

"Fine," Emma said, giving him a small smile. She stood on her toes and kissed him one last time. She did her best to notice every little thing, from the way he smelled, the feeling of his arms around her, how soft and warm his lips were, how she could tell he hadn't shaved this morning. She let go of him, giving his cheek a quick peck, and then she grabbed her things and moved towards the door. "See you around," she said after opening the door, determined not to say _goodbye_.

"Yeah, see you," Paul said, following her to the doorway. He watched her and she offered a little smile. Her heart was heavy and she tried to tell herself to get it together as she walked down the garden path. She stopped walking, turned around, needing to see him one last time.

"Paul," she said, sending him a hopeful smile, "I uh. I look forward to dating you normally. After this."

Paul smiled at her words. "Me too, Emma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO she's technically finished now. Buuuut there is an epilogue on the way. This is who i am.  
> Let me know if you made it through this long ass chapter. And if you liked it.
> 
> Okay first off: the "hurts all three of my feelings" joke is 100 % stolen from a Carrie Fisher tweet. It just felt very Emma.  
> Second: this is _my_ alternative universe, and I have decided Adam Schlesinger survived!  
> Thirdly: Blame gooddaysunshine for the settlers of catan stuff. she inspired me.  
> Fourthly: Related to that, the cruel sheep empire comments is 100 % stolen from Check, Please! It felt perfect for this. (is fourthly a word? anyway)


	6. Epilogue: A dork and a crabby barista

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm baaaaack! So sorry for all the wait. This epilogue did NOT wanna cooperate!  
> But she's here now! I hope you will like it. Thank you all for reading this! <3

Emma wasn't really sure what she had imagined _dating normally_ would entail. Supposedly it involved going to the movies or out to dinner, but since the corona-virus hadn't disappeared after she finished her exams, it wasn't going to be like that. One thing was for sure, dating normally involved going on their first real date.

She had texted Paul a lot during her exams. She liked to send him ironic or tired selfies, doing peace signs or trying out silly filters. He usually laughed, sending her memes or pictures of his backyard back. They also had an ongoing joke where they sent each other pictures of their dinner - the more pathetic and alone it looked, the better.

On top of their constant texting, they had seen each other on a few walks, whenever Emma needed to get out of the apartment and clear her head. The not-kissing part of the walks had sucked, but talking to each other had been great.

But now she had turned in her final exam and was ready to invest more time in Paul again. Emma kicked a pile of laundry on the floor. Her apartment always looked post-apocalyptic after exams, and she needed to clean it up before their date tonight. Since they couldn't go to the movies, it had been necessary to improvise, and Emma's brilliant idea had been to invite Paul over for a movie night. She was going to make them microwave popcorn and she had bought Reese's peanut butter cups. There was a bottle of Coke in the fridge.

After a lot of cleaning, and about twice as much complaining, her apartment looked almost livable. She had made the bed and filled her hamper with laundry. She had scrubbed the bathroom and aired out. Her apartment had a tiny kitchen, bathroom and one room. She had a cheap Ikea bookcase splitting the room from dining area and sleeping area. She mostly worked at the dining table, but would occasionally sprawl on the bed when she read. Satisfied with her result, she started getting ready. She glanced in the mirror, inspecting her looks. She had pulled her hair into a high pony tail to get it out of her face. She considered taking it down, since Paul liked that, but she decided against it. Her hair always got in the way. She had changed into a striped t-shirt and tugged it into a pair of cut-off jeans. She had done her makeup like she always did, not wanting to be extra about it - even if it was their first real date.

The buzzer sounded. Emma smiled to herself. The elevator bustles as it moved up, and then the doors opened and Paul stepped out. He smiled when he saw her in the door. Emma ignored the way her stomach flipped. He was wearing his usual suit and shirt combo, but had the jacket over his arm and the sleeves of the shirt rolled up.

"Hi," he said, as she stepped to the side to let him in.

"Welcome," Emma said. Paul definitely had a hint of blush in his cheeks, and he stepped closer to her. Emma had been certain she was going to pounce on him the moment he was there, but now she waited. She had forgotten how endlessly funny it was to watch Paul make a move. His hand hovered awkwardly over her shoulder, and then he hesitantly leaned down and kissed her cheek. She almost laughed. "Is that all I'm getting?" she asked, raising an eyebrow

"No," he said, and then he pulled a fucking bouquet of flowers out from under his jacket. It made her double over with laughter.

"Paul!" she cried, holding onto his arm, "That was stupidly smooth, oh my fucking God!"

"Thank you," he replied, looking pretty damn satisfied with himself. _Idiot,_ she thought fondly. She lifted herself up and kissed him swiftly on the lips. She had to make it a quick one, if they were going to make it to watching the film. She accepted the flowers and carried them into the kitchen, and since she didn't have any vases, she ended up putting them into the biggest glass she owned. They were dark purple tulips and they would probably look nice on her dining table.

"So, do you want a tour?" she asked with a grin. Paul was standing with his hands in his pockets. He nodded. "This is the kitchen. It sucks," she started. She walked back into the large room and pointed to the bathroom door. "Bathroom, it's small but functional." she told him. She gestured to the small dining table, with half of it covered in newly sorted piles of notes and books. "Dining slash studying area."

"Nice," Paul nodded, following her. She placed the flowers on the table and walked around the bookcase.

"This is where the fun happens," she said, doing an eyebrow waggle, "or, I guess _will happen._ "

"The movie watching?" Paul asked, feigning innocence.

"Of course," Emma played along, "put your stuff down somewhere and I'll get started on the popcorn."

"Actually, I'm gonna wash my hands first," Paul said, doing jazz hands at her. She laughed.

"Right, virus," she said. He followed her into the kitchen, washing his hands while she made popcorn.

"Your apartment is nice," he said politely while the popcorn popped away inside the microwave.

"It's really not," Emma said, "I _miss_ your kitchen!"

"My kitchen?" Paul repeated, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Yes," Emma replied simply, maintaining a blank face. Paul stepped closer.

"Nothing else?" he asked. He looked like he was joking along, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. Emma pretended to think the question over.

"Oh! Of course there is more," she said, "your backyard." Paul huffed in response. Emma took pity on him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly. "It's good to see you," she mumbled into his chest, just as his arms wrapped around her.

"You too," he replied, melting into the hug. He smelled nice, comforting. Grounding. Emma had missed it. She looked up at him, and sent him a nose-crinkling grin. Paul smiled back, before leaning down and kissing her gently. She sighed happily, standing on her toes to deepen the kiss a little.

They cuddled up on her bed, and she opened up her laptop. Paul was chewing on popcorn beside her. She had wanted to see _Labyrinth_ , but then she remembered all the singing. She had ended up renting the _Knives Out_ movie instead. She leaned against Paul, taking a handful of popcorn and shoving them in her mouth.

The movie was good, keeping them both captivated and also making them laugh. They spent almost half an hour finishing the popcorn and discussing the movie. Afterwards Emma placed her head on Paul's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against his neck before closing her eyes and sighing. "Are you staying over?" she asked.

"If you'll let me," he replied, and she could feel him turn his head, like he was looking down at her.

"Awesome," Emma said. She moved, so she could wrap her arm across his stomach. He was still, like he was afraid moving would scare her away. She remembered leaning against him back at Beanie's and him freezing. She stretched out her hand, holding onto his ribs and lifted her head. "So," she asked with a smirk, "we've had our first real date now."

"Yeah," Paul smiled, "it was nice - _oh_." He blushed, catching her drift when her hand started trailing down his side.

" _Oh_ indeed," Emma grinned, moving forward to capture his lips. Paul wrapped an arm around her and moved her, so she was on top of him, kissing her back eagerly. _Good_ , he wasn't completely back to his old, hesitant ways. She had barely thought it before he pulled back and looked at her.

"Emma," he said, pausing while his eyes examined her, "- I missed you."

Emma just kissed him again, moving her hand up to cup his jaw and hold him in place. Words were hard, but she wanted to return the sentiment somehow. Her thumb caressed his cheek. After breaking the kiss, she bopped her nose against his affectionately. Paul smiled, creating crinkles around his eyes. Emma's heart thudded against her ribcage. Paul seemed satisfied, kissing her deeply, running his hand up and down her back, pressing her lightly against him. His hand pulled her shirt up from her jeans and snuck under the fabric. Normally Emma would have to wait ages for him to actually take it off her, but not today. He pushed her shirt up with both hands, and she helped him get it off. He flipped them over, hovering over her with a grin before trailing hot kisses down her neck and back up. Emma was breathing heavily, moving her head to give him more access. His mouth moved down her neck again, continuing down her collarbone and chest. He stopped just as he reached her bra. His hot breath sent tingles across her skin, so it took her a moment to realize he was laughing.

"What the fuck is so funny about my boobs?" she asked, looking down at him. Paul looked at her and then he licked right between them, before laughing even more.

"You're - salty," he wheezed. Emma frowned. Paul picked up something from her skin between his index finger and thumb. "Popcorn crumble," he explained, and Emma started laughing. He placed it on a napkin by the bed he had used earlier.

"Shut up," she told him, still laughing.

"Yes, ma'am," Paul said, resuming kissing her skin. Occasionally he would chuckle or lick her, and she assumed he had found more salt. Who didn't spill popcorn down their cleavage? Emma was certain she couldn't be the only one. When he removed her bra, one big popcorn and more little crumbs appeared. "Jesus, how many are you hiding down here?" he asked, laughing. Emma refused to feel embarrassed, pushing that feeling away from her.

"Figured you might get hungry on your way down," she joked. Paul guffawed and crawled back up so he could kiss her on the lips. Emma quickly began to unbutton his shirt. "It's like trying to undress a lady in a fucking gown," she grumbled, as she made her way through the buttons. Paul laughed.

When they were both shirtless, he rolled backward, pulling her with him so they were both resting on their sides, facing each other. He trailed his fingertips down the side of her face, across her chest and down her stomach, muttering _so fucking beautiful_ under his breath. Emma gave him a flattered smile, feeling almost awkward.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said, before moving closer and kissing him, wrapping her leg over his hip. His hand came to rest on the back of her thigh, holding her there. Emma tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, deepening the kiss.

After, she rested the side of her head against his bare chest, drawing lazy patterns on his stomach. Paul was silent, but she could hear his heart beating. He was caressing her back.

"I'm not letting you leave any time soon," she mumbled. Paul's hand froze momentarily, clearly surprised by her words.

"Good," he responded, resuming his hand movements. 

* * *

_Dating normally_ meant seeing each other around town. Most notably at Beanies of course. Things were still not back to normal in Hatchetfield, let alone America and the rest of the world. There was a vaccine on the way though - some German scientists had finally had a breakthrough. Local shops and businesses began opening up over summer. Paul and his coworkers went to work some of the days in the week, taking turns so they could sit further apart, and so that brought him to Beanies to get coffee during his days.

Emma had been surprised that Beanies had survived all the days spent closed down. She had been certain it wouldn't, but it turned out Nora knew some rich lady, who had donated money to keep it going. At first Emma had no idea _how_ Nora had convinced someone to do that, because Nora wasn't exactly a pleasant person. However, Zoey had been sending her some very inconspicuous looks and eyebrow waggles whenever Nora mentioned the donator. _Oh_. _Gross_. It seemed Emma's own sex life wasn't the only one Zoey had been weirdly invested in.

They weren't allowed to have seated customers of course, only coffee and pastries to go. People had to wait outside, because there could only be one customer inside at a time. They had to wipe down the counter constantly and Emma's hands were complaining about all the hand washing. However it was pretty great, when Paul would come in on the days he worked at the office. It was nice to see him, like back in the day, only now she knew she would get to make out with him in the nearest future. The first few times he came in, he even blushed as he said _hi._ Emma made him his black coffee and he tipped her five bucks, like a dork. Every time.

One of the times he stopped by in early summer, she heard Zoey make a disgusted _ugh_ noise next to her and Emma realized she was returning the dopey grin on Paul's face full force. Wow, they really had become those people, huh? She handed him his coffee. "Get outta here, nerd," she told him.

"See you," Paul replied, accepting the coffee.

When Emma turned towards Zoey, she was met with a _you're so gross_ look. Emma rolled her eyes. Working together had put a damper on their text comradery. Emma was now almost daily reminded of how annoying Zoey could be. Plus, since the pandemic, neither of them felt like spitting in the coffee would be an okay move. The spitting had been one of the pillars in their friendship-y thing, and without it they struggled a little. Although Emma still liked Zoey more than she used to. It had been pretty cool of her to check up on Emma during the lockdown.

"When's the wedding?" Zoey asked, grabbing a cloth and wiping down the machines. Wow, she was actually working.

"Last Tuesday - did I forget to invite you?" Emma replied dryly. She could hear Zoey hold back a laugh.

"Y'know, if you have kids, they are probably gonna have a normal height," Zoey said, still wiping, not looking at Emma. The thought of marriage and kids was still creeping her out, but she wasn't going to tell Zoey about that.

"That's why I picked him - figured he could provide some tall genes," Emma joked, before turning her attention towards the next customer. "Hi, can I help you?"

* * *

_Dating normally_ meant spending time in each other's company. So Emma found herself on a blanket in Paul's yard on a Saturday in July, like she did most weekends. The sun was shining from a practically clear blue sky, with only a few white cotton clouds. Emma was dressed in a top with thin straps and a pair of soft shorts, soaking up as much sunshine as possible. There was a glass with iced tea next to her on a tray and a small bowl with peanuts. Paul was sitting closer to the house, hiding in the shade on a chair, reading a book. He was barefoot and had rolled up the pants. Emma had whistled at him when he did it and said _ooh ankles._

Emma was spending her vacation working. When she wasn't at Beanies, she was helping Hidgens with a research project. He was of course still staying inside his fortress-house, but he sent her files of data and instructions on what to do with them. It didn't pay much, but it was a nice job to have alongside being a barista. It didn't really have anything to do with botany, and when Paul had asked her about working away from her field, she'd just shrugged and said _money's money._

Emma sat up on her elbows and leaned over to drink some of her iced tea. It wasn't so cold any longer, from all that direct sunlight. She sighed, looking over at Paul. He seemed consumed by his book, which she found pretty adorable. She still liked being here, she still loved to sit in his backyard after a long day, she loved to cook in his little kitchen. It was still odd to her that she liked being around him so much.

Paul wasn't as fond of tanning as her. He would sometimes throw a tube of sunscreen at her, if he thought she had been in the sun for too long and needed to reapply protection. He did seem to like the lines that appeared on her body though.

These past few months had been so nice, Emma had no idea what to think of it. She wasn't used to being content with one thing for so long. Not like this.

She leaned back on the blanket and closed her eyes. The warmth hitting her skin felt so good, and she was melting into the ground beneath her. Her and Jane used to spend hours all summer in their backyard. When they were little they would have water guns and a small inflatable kiddy pool. When they got older it was hula hoops and skipping rope and bouncy balls. Then, as Jane started to be a teenager, she would tan in one of the lounge chairs while reading magazines and Emma would sit next to her, _hoping_ they would play soon. Sometimes Jane let Emma flip through the magazines and read aloud to her. Emma knew she was being used, but she didn't care. Sometimes Jane would give in and play something with her. Later on she got fond of tanning too. It was one of those things they still made sure to do together, even when their High School lives got very different. Jane would study outside in the sun, and Emma would listen to music on her mp3 and sketch these ridiculously dramatic and dark drawing in her notebook.

A drop of water hit her face. She wiped it away. Another hit her. _What the hell_? She removed her sunglasses and saw Paul looming over her, holding a glass of water and flinging drops on her with his fingers.

"Oh, you're dead, Matthews," she said, quickly getting to her feet. Paul was already running away, cackling to himself. Emma ran after him, ducking under the branches of the small tree, to try and cut him off. He was hard to catch but not impossible. He had longer legs, but she was in better running shape. He tried holding the glass out of her reach, and they wrestled for it for a moment. She finally got her other hand on the glass and promptly tipped it over Paul, wetting his hair and shirt. He gasped in shock, and Emma started cackling.

"Give me a hug," Paul said, reaching out his arms. The large wet spot made his t-hirt almost see-through and water was dripping onto his forehead.

" _No_ ," Emma said, before ducking under his arm and running away. He caught up to her fast, clearly not taken by surprise. Suddenly arms were around her, and she was held against a wet chest. She turned around and looked up at him, smiling. She liked standing like this, looking up at him. It wasn't normally the most flattering angle, but he looked so cute when he loomed above her. She liked his round jaw and big eyes. "You look cute when wet," Emma said. It came out a bit softer and less teasing than she had intended.

"Thank you," Paul said, doing one small nod, sending a few drops down onto her face. He watched her, not saying more. Emma ran a hand down his back.

"If you wanted my attention, you could've just said so," she said, smirking.

"But in school I learned you have to tease the girls you like," he replied, tugging a strand of her hair like it was a pigtail. He was such a fucking nerd. She laughed.

"And how did that work out for ya?" she asked, an eyebrow arched.

"Pretty shitty," he said, doing a little nod. "Then I tried tipping a lot. In the end it took a global pandemic for me to get the girl."

"That's right," Emma said. She looked into his blue, blue eyes, getting a little lost. She smiled playfully at him. "You should really take off this wet shirt."

"Is that so?" Paul asked, returning her smile. Emma nodded, snaking a hand under the shirt and running her fingers up and down his spine. Paul let go off her and quickly lifted the shirt over his head. Then he pulled her back in, his hands landing on the small of her back.

"Are you gonna stand there all day or are you going to kiss me?" she asked. Paul complied, smiling with an exasperated fondness before leaning down and capturing her lips in a long, soft kiss. Emma stood on her tiptoes, practically falling into him, and he tightened his grab around her waist, stumbling a little to hold his balance.

They ended rolling around on the blanket, kissing and kissing. Emma was happy she was wearing such soft clothes, so moving around was easier. More than once Paul suggested going inside, but Emma just kissed him again, shutting him up. After she began visiting him in the house again after lockdown, she had discovered something. Paul _always_ suggested going up to bedroom when things got frisky. She hadn't even noticed back in quarantine.

This revelation let to a secret summer project: seeing _where_ she could get Paul to have sex. So far she had succeeded on the couch a few times, once on the living room floor and they tried in the shower, but had to give up since it was too slippery when wet. It was very obvious that the backyard wasn't an option, not that she hadn't tried. It wasn't even because she was particularly fond of sex outside of the bed, it was just the principle of it! Okay, that time on the floor had been _awesome_.

Paul pulled back again, smiling at her. "Wanna go inside?" he asked.

"Who said I was done tanning?" she replied.

"My bad, Miss Perkins," Paul shook his head and chuckled. He crawled off her and got to his feet, and then he left her there, walking inside with his things. Emma closed her eyes and tried to pretend she didn't care. After several minutes she gave in, grabbed her things and carried them inside. She placed the blanket and the tray by the door, and carried the peanuts and iced tea over to the sink. Paul came into the kitchen, grinning at her. He started cleaning up the glasses and his own empty bowl, so Emma leaped onto the counter and watched him work.

He had a small smear of red over his cheeks and nose from the sun. The type that would fade after some lotion. Emma felt her heart thump against her ribs. Not for the first time these past few months, she caught herself thinking she could keep doing this for years. As always, the thought made her feel lightheaded and a little breathless. She normally never committed to anything like this.

"What?" Paul asked, looking up at her.

"Nothing," Emma said.

"You're just staring," Paul grinned, "like a creep."

"The creepiest," Emma agreed, as he walked over to her, placing his wet hands on her arms. She made a protesting noise.

"Sorry," he said, grabbing a towel and wiping them. He returned to standing in front of her, and Emma separated her knees so he could step closer. His hands landed on the sides of her thighs this time, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

Later, when Emma was standing in the bathroom, she couldn't help but smile at herself in the mirror. _Kitchen counter: check_ , she thought to herself. She was rubbing a bit of lotion on her shoulders just to be sure after all the sunshine. She had finished showering and her hair was wrapped in a towel. Paul was just finishing his shower, wiping down all the water on the tiles. He stepped out, smiling at her. He had a white towel wrapped low on his hips. She liked looking at him after his showers. Even though he wasn't actively tanning like her, he was still getting lines from his t-shirt on his arms.

"Come here," Emma said. He walked over to her, and she lifted her fingers and applied her leftover lotion onto his cheek and nose. "You were a little red."

" _Oh_ ," Paul said, breaking into a grateful smile, " _thank you._ I hadn't noticed."

"Good thing you have me to look after you," she said. It was meant as an offhand joke, she hadn't even thought about the implications. The way Paul lit up made her realize though. "And there was leftover lotion on my hand," she added quickly.

Paul was still smiling widely, but he didn't comment on it. He just leaned in and brushed a kiss against her lips, before lifting his towel and drying his hair. "What about dinner?" he asked.

"I was thinking we ordered sushi, opened a bottle of rosé and I kicked your ass in Settlers," Emma said, staring at his ass while he had his back turned to her, "what do you think?"

"I think it sounds good, although I'll win," he replied. Emma sent him a death glare. She had won a few times by now, but Paul was still way better than her. It was so annoying. It was also hot, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She had only flipped the board once since the first time, so that was definitely progress.

"We'll see," she replied, before walking into the bedroom to get dressed.

She ordered them their usual sushi order and got started on setting the table in the kitchen, smiling to herself as she looked at the counter, memories of earlier flashing through her mind. Paul joined her, dressed in sweatpants and his college hoodie. She caught him staring at the counter and blushing. She had to bite down on her hand to stop herself from laughing, when he wiped down the counter with a wet cloth. This guy really did it for her. He was such a nerd, and she was way too into it.

* * *

_Dating normally_ meant having their first fight. And their second. Neither fight had been anything big. In fact, they had hardly been fights compared to what Emma was used to when she was living with her parents. The first had been when she left a mess behind and caught him pull a face behind her back. It wasn't a full on grimace, just tired _here we go again_ look in his eyes, but it pissed her off. If he was sick of her cleaning habits he should tell her! She had said _what the fuck was that face_ or something along those lines, and he had been so surprised, he had told her to calm down. A wrong thing to say. He didn't want to fight, he just grabbed the plate and box of leftovers and carried them into the kitchen and Emma had to put serious restrain on herself to keep from storming after him and taking it out of his hands. She wasn't sure if she wanted to passive aggressively clean it up for him or take it back to the table just to be annoying. She had stomped into the backyard instead and taken some deep breaths. Paul had joined her after some time, mumbling a soft _sorry._ Emma had wrapped an arm around his waist and said _me too_.

The second one was a little bigger, but over something just as dumb. They disagreed on what to do, and she made a comment about him being a weirdo, who never got out and had friends. Unfortunately that seemed to hit a nerve. He got all weirdly silent and still and then just walked away. She chased him, telling him to be fucking angry with her instead of hiding. He raised his voice at her and told he to leave him alone. She refused.

"Emma, please, just-" he tried, moving his hands frantically.

"Fuck no," she said, crossing her arms, "Yell at me!" When he didn't respond, she walked closer. "Yell at me! Just be fucking angry and yell!"

"Emma," he had pleaded, his face getting redder and his hands shaking.

"Why can't you just be angry at me?!" she had asked, raising her own voice.

"Because!" he had yelled back, "I don't want to!" He had looked shocked, covering his mouth with his hands.

"Was that so hard?," Emma asked, satisfied. He finally let it out. He groaned, running his hands through his hair and sitting down on the ground. Her anger deflated in her chest, when she was how defeated he looked. " _Hey_ ," she said softly, sitting down next to him. 

"I don't like being angry, it's..." he grew silent, "Please don't say I'm weird and don't see my friends. I, uh, was that weird kid without friends so..."

"I'm sorry," she said, placing her hand on his knee, "you're allowed to be mad at me. 'Kay? I'm definitely gonna get angry at you, so it's only fair. I'm gonna fuck shit up sometimes." 

He let out a little laugh. "But I like you, I don't want to be mad at you."

" _Pfffh_ ," Emma said, "I like my car - it doesn't stop me from calling it a fucking piece of junk when it won't start."

"Did you just compare yourself to your car?" he looked up at her, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes, breaking through the sadness.

"Of course. It's small, has loads of personality and sometimes smells weird," she joked. This time he actually laughed. She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry I said you're weird and never get out and have friends."

"It's okay, you didn't know," he replied, "I just... I guess I worry you'll realize I'm weird and alone and won't wanna be wi-around me anymore."

Emma almost snorted. "Buddy, I liked being literally stuck here with you." She stretched so she could kiss his temple softly, "your brain is being silly."

Paul sighed and rested his head against her shoulder. They sat there for a while in silence. Emma thought about what had just happened. Sometimes she was too mean, but he really needed to speak up when something bothered him. Getting him to speak up and not internalize shit seemed to be challenge though. She didn't know how much poking it would take, and she wasn't exactly interested in straight up bullying him. Just poke at him a bit. Maybe get him to yell again. Yelling was good for you.

In the next few days she noticed something surprising. Fighting with Paul had helped her feel more at ease. The sense of _this is too good to be true_ had gotten a lot weaker after both fights. Of course it still lifted is ugly ass head once in a while. It would whisper that Paul would grow tired of waiting for her to solve her shitty issues and give him what he wanted and that he was going to leave her just as she got used to having him around. However, it had lessened quite a lot after the fights. Now it was quiet most of the time and she could believe that things were the perfect amount of good - not enough to be false, but enough to make her happy.

* * *

_Dating normally_ also meant figuring out what she wanted. Particularly what she wanted in the long run. She had mostly avoided the question while living with him in lockdown, only asking herself what she wanted _now_. That had mostly involving kissing him in various stages of undress.

Emma had woken up early, too preoccupied with thoughts to be able to sleep. Paul was sprawled out next to her, snoring a little. She stared at the ceiling and thought back on the time they got stuck together at Beanies. It felt like _years_ ago they were sitting on the floor, playing _Go Fish!_ and feeling weird because they didn't know each other. Now she was at his house most weekends, and usually at least once during the week. They had been at her apartment a couple of times, but since Paul had all this space, it seemed dumb to stay there.

The time apart after she left him to do her exams had been good for them. It had helped to make it feel more real for her. She got to remember what her life was like before him, and she got to miss him properly. That was a big deal actually. Getting to miss him. The first night alone in her own bed she had missed the warmth of his presence and his soft breathing. Later in the week she mostly missed talking to him and making him laugh. She just wanted to ask him about his day, which was super lame.

When the rules got loosened up a bit, she was excited to spend proper time with him again. She had been worried it wouldn't live up to that excitement, like she had built it up in her head, but it had been even better than she remembered, to cuddle up next to him, kiss his jaw, smell his cologne and call him a nerd.

Now, they were halfway through summer and things were still good. It still surprised her how much his presence affected her. Just seeing him in the door when she showed up at his house made her in a better mood. If she was having a bad day, just him wrapping his arm around her shoulders made her feel more at ease. She never got tired of touching him. It was so strange.

She had tried to ignore the question about what she wanted in the long run, but the universe wasn't letting her get away with it. There were small things, like in the beginning of summer, when her general practitioner asked her if she was sexually active. The follow up questions about whether it was the same partner and if she had considered a different type of contraception made her consider her long-term plans a little. In the end, she figured the doctor had a point, and so after she and Paul got tested, she began on the pill. A bonus was it made her project about having sex in different places around the house easier.

Another time involved Alice, who had started knitting during lockdown and now was practically addicted to it. She declared she had started making Emma sweater and for a moment Emma wondered if she would even be around when the sweater was finished. It had proved completely pointless to wonder about, since Alice finished it in a week.

The biggest one was her family though. Tom politely asked about _Pat_ or _Phil_ whenever she saw them, and Tim would pretend he wasn't listening, but he was all ears every time. It started to seem silly that they hadn't _met_ Paul, but Emma was still wary of it. If Tim got attached to him and it didn't work out...

Emma rolled to her side and watched Paul as he slept. The slope of his nose, the hair sticking up from his cowlick, those full lips that always tempted her into another kiss. She really liked him. There was no way around it. He made a noise and rolled onto his side, facing her. He was still asleep. Emma continued watching him. She liked this, waking up next to him. Especially when he wasn't awake yet, so she could stare at him shamelessly without him knowing. It felt like she would never grow tired of looking at his face. Then a thought hit her out of nowhere and made her stomach drop like on a rollercoaster.

There was no end date in her mind when it came to Paul.

She sat up in bed and ran her hand through her hair. There was no fucking end date! There was just a feeling of happiness and a want for more. Shit - that was crazy. She almost moved over to wake him up and tell him, but she decided against it. She could enjoy the thought on her own a little first. Maybe think through what followed a revelation like that?

She let herself fall back into the bed, smiling up at the ceiling. It was scary but also almost euphoric. Jane would have been ecstatic to hear about this. Emma closed her eyes and sighed. _Jane, I'm doing it. I'm making choices that make me happy in the long run._ She couldn't stop smiling, even if the thought of Jane always tugged at her heart. _I'm gonna tell Paul about this soon, Jane. I wanted to tell you first. I wanna be with him._ She could imagine Jane's smile and hear her squeal of delight.

When she turned her head to look at Paul, she was met with two open blue eyes. "Morning," he said.

"Morning," Emma replied, her voice a little thick. Paul moved closer, burying his nose in her hair.

"Can we just stay here all day?" he asked. His mouth was close to her ear.

"Maybe," Emma replied, running a hand down his arm under the covers. "Got any ideas about activities we can do?"

"I can think of one or two," Paul muttered. Sleepy Paul was always more direct and smooth. It was cute. He moved down, so he could trail kisses down her neck. Good thing they already were undressed.

* * *

_Dating normally_ meant having actual date nights. It was something Paul really cared about. Emma could tell he always made an effort to remember to do those kind of romantic things, like he had read in a magazine that it was important. He brought her flowers sometimes, and he often talked about going out to dinner. Emma didn't want to sit in a restaurant and get coughed on by strangers and use her sleeves to open bathroom doors, so she told him takeaway would be enough. Once the crisis was over, she could be persuaded to go to a restaurant again.

So once in a while he bought fancy takeaway and put on a nice shirt. Emma made them cocktails or poured generous glasses of wine and they put bread in a little basket and pretended they were at a restaurant. This time it was tapas and Emma had made them pre-dinner gin and tonics. She had shaken the mixer and placed the glasses, so all Paul had to do was put in ice and pour the drinks. She walked up the stairs, passing him midway. He had put on his only black button down shirt and rolled up his sleeves. She mentally cursed, because _goddamn_ he looked good. She stopped him and kissed him hungrily for a moment, before squeezing past him and up the stairs, leaving him to (hopefully) stare after her.

She fixed up her makeup, adding just a little bit more than usual. Then she put on the dress she had brought along. It was a dark blue wrap dress, with short sleeves. It ended just above her knees, and she thought it made her figure _pop_. She eyed herself in the mirror, and decided to take her hair out of the hairclip. Paul always liked when her hair was down. She combed through it with her fingers, making sure it wasn't too tangled and clumpy. Satisfied with the result, she moved down the stairs again. As if it was planned, he walked out of the kitchen just as she became visible on the stairs. _Total movie moment._

"Emma..." he said, breathless. His eyes were huge, almost rolling out of his head and his jaw was slack. Emma smiled as she continued down. He didn't say anything else, instead he just followed her movements with his eyes. She stopped in front of him, and gently pushed his mouth closed.

"You're letting flies in," she joked. Paul's hands landed on her waist and then he kissed her, like he was unable to do anything else. It left Emma a little dizzy when he pulled back.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, kissing her again. Emma was rubbing her hands up and down his arms, unable to stop touching him.

"Remember when I was drunk and I told you that you're sexy?" she asked.

"Yeah?" Paul said.

"Sober Emma agrees. Especially now," she said. Making it through dinner was going to be tricky. Paul blushed, and after one more kiss, he let go of her and went into the kitchen to grab the drinks. They sat on the porch, sipping their drinks and talking about their week. Emma finished her drink faster than Paul and teased him for being a slow lightweight.

They opened a bottle of red wine with the food. Paul was talking about Bill and Ted at work, and Emma watched him fondly. She still hadn't told him about her revelation, but she liked to take it out in her mind and warm herself with it. Paul was gesturing with a piece of bread and Emma just liked him so much. She had complained about Nora for a full twenty minutes outside and he just listened to her, without seeming tired or waiting for his turn. It was really something.

Emma took another sip of wine. She wondered how much she would do if he asked it of her. She was starting to think she'd say yes to a lot. He probably didn't even know he could. She liked that about him. He never asked anything of her. He let her set the pace and he seemed okay with it. She suspected he held back on some things, like putting the depth of his feelings into words, but he never blamed her for it. _Jesus fucking Christ_ , this guy really got her, huh? She should probably thank him, let him know how much she appreciated it.

When they finished eating, she packed away the leftovers, while he did the dishes. Emma made them both an Irish Coffee, and then they retreated to the couch. Paul was tipsy and wasted no time, so began kissing her right away. If any part of her had been intending to talk about her feelings, it was effectively shut up. Paul had one hand on the side of her neck, and the other hand inched up her leg, stopping right after crawling under the dress. His fingers slowly caressed her bare skin and it was driving her a little nuts.

"Sorry," he murmured, after breaking the kiss, "I just _really_ like that dress."

"No need to apologize," Emma said, a little out of breath. She pulled back and readjusted her hair and dress. She picked up her coffee and stirred it before taking a sip. Paul followed her lead, looking away from her. "I put it on, hoping for a reaction like that," she joked. Paul chuckled, stirring until the whipped cream had mixed completely with the coffee.

"You make me really happy," he said suddenly. Emma looked up at him in surprise.

"Oh?" It came out like a question. She had no idea what to say.

"I wasn't really happy before. I mean, I wasn't _un_ happy. I was just fine, I guess." It seemed like he was thinking aloud more than talking to her. He was still just looking at his coffee. "There was nothing about my life that I actively disliked and wanted to change, so I figured that was it. I was doing fine. But meeting you, getting to know you. I am genuinely happy. I like my job more, I like my work friends more. I didn't know life could feel like this."

Emma's heart was melting. She had no idea what to say. All her previous thoughts about him getting her were crumbled into a gooey mess, and there was no way she was going to put them into words. " _Paul_ ," she said fondly.

"I just wanted to thank you," he said, finally looking up at her. Emma's heart literally skipped a beat when she saw the look in his eyes. They were warm, in awe and so earnest.

"You're welcome," her voice was low, still overwhelmed. She took a sip of coffee, enjoying the whiskey flavor. "I am a lot happier now too - global crisis aside. I uh, I wanted to thank you for letting me be slow about this whole thing. It means a lot to me that you got that." It was a lot to say, and she had to exhale through her mouth to calm her heartbeat. She wasn't sure she could say more now.

"You do really make me happy," he smiled, "you're so sharp and mean. It's _so_ great! It also very, _very_ hot. You're just so hot, Emma."

Then there was more kissing and roaming hands. Wine drunk Paul was bolder and more in the moment. It was great. Emma kept pulling him closer, and they ended up lying down on the couch, with her leg around his hip, both of them panting hard as they made out.

Suddenly Paul stopped kissing her and looked down. "Do you want a drawer for your stuff?"

"What?" Emma was confused.

"Do you want a drawer here to keep your stuff in?" he elaborated.

 _Oh._ "Yeah, okay," she said. That might make things easier. "I'd like a stupid drawer in your stupid closet.". He beamed in response, leaning down to kiss her again. She had just forgotten what they were talking about when he stopped again.

"What about a toothbrush?" he asked.

"I have a toothbrush," she replied. Her non-sober and distracted brain was not able to keep up. Paul laughed.

"You could have one here permanently," he said, clearly amused.

"That makes more sense," she laughed, "and yeah, good idea."

They kissed more, and Emma had just given up trying to unbutton Paul's shirt when her phone began beeping. She gently shoved him off and crawled off the couch. She found her phone. Ah, her pill alarm. "What's happening?" Paul asked, and she could feel him watch her as she walked around to find her wallet.

"I just gotta pop some hormones, so you can't knock me up," she said, "you can get rid of the shirt while you wait."

She heard him laugh, as she found her pill and swallowed it. Thank God those fuckers were tiny as hell, so she didn't need to find something to drink. When she walked back to him, he had almost finished unbuttoning his shirt. She smiled to herself, stopping in front of him. He looked up at her, his eyes darker as they roamed over her. " _Fuck_ , Emma. That dress." his voice was low and a little hoarse.

"Wanna see something cool?" she asked, smirking playfully. Paul nodded, so she lifted one of the ends of the bow she had tied. "Pull this."

He did as he was told, undoing the knot. As he pulled, the dress fell open, revealing her underwear. Paul cursed under his breath, but she still heard it. She crawled onto his lap, straddling him and kissed him hungrily. There wasn't much else left to talk about now.

* * *

_Dating normally_ and deciding she was in it for the long haul meant introducing him to her family. That was why they were on the way to the beach with to meet Tom and Tim. She had put on denim shorts and an open shirt over her bikini, and Paul had decided on a t-shirt and his swimming trunks as shorts. He was wearing a baseball cap, which she had already given him shit for.

She parked the car and got out, readjusting her sunglasses. Paul grabbed their blanket and she carried their bag of drinks and snacks. She spotted Tom and Tim already down by the water. They waved and then Tim ran towards her.

"Aunt Emma! The man on the radio said hugging was okay!" he yelled and then he threw himself into her arms. Emma stumbled a little, but held on tightly to him. She had missed hugging him so much. She considered lifting him up and spinning him around, but he was getting a little too big.

"Hey kid! Are you ready to swim and find cool shit?" Emma asked, forgetting to filter her foul language.

"Yes!" Tim grinned. Then he looked over at Paul and his smile grew mischievous. " _Ooh!_ Are you Emma's boyfriend?" _The little shit._

"Well, uh, we haven't really put a label on it yet," Emma said, completely blanking on what would be a normal response. Paul's gaze dropped just a smidge and he blinked.

"But we _are_ intimate," he said. _Oh God. Paul!_ Tim didn't look impressed. Emma glanced at Paul, who looked like he was ready to walk into the water and let the waves swallow him. He was such an idiot.

"So, uh, enjoying your summer vacation?" Emma asked loudly, trying to steer the conversation in a more normal direction. Tom had reached them now, and nodded at her. Thank _fucking_ God he didn't hear the _intimate_ comment.

"It's alright," Tim shrugged, looking up at his dad.

"Hey Tom," Emma said, doing a little wave.

"Hey Emma," Tom said, before looking at Paul, "Phil was it?"

"Uh, Paul," Paul said, looking nervous. He reached out his hand in greeting, but retracted it again. "We should probably just wave. Nice to meet you."

Tom made a little huff in response. "Yeah. Let's find a place to sit." Emma sighed, ignoring the little flare of annoyance that Tom didn't return the sentiment from Paul. Tim kept his arm around her as they walked, and Emma held onto his shoulder. She smiled encouragingly at Paul as they walked down the beach, looking for a place to sit away from other people. They spread out their blankets and Emma plopped down, stretching herself out, leaning on her elbows. Paul sat down next to her. He seemed a little rigid and nervous. She was still recovering from his ridiculous comment, but she still took pity on him. She sat up and rubbed him between the shoulder blades. He smiled at her softly.

"Aunt Emma," Tim said, and she looked up to see him ready to swim. "Last person with their head under water is a loser!" Then he started running towards the water.

"Don't go out above your waist!" Tom yelled after him. Emma wasn't one to sit back from a challenge, and she removed her shorts, shirt and sunglasses in a rush and ran after Tim. The water was cool, slowing her a little, but she didn't care. Tim had stopped, clearly waiting for her to get closer before he threw himself into the water. She dove in after him. The cold water made it prickle along her scalp for a moment, until she had adjusted to it. 

She and Tim swam around, wrestled and splashed on each other. He liked it when she gave him a boost and made him fly backwards into the water. Every time he would laugh uncontrollably when his head broke the surface again. One time he threw himself at her so hard they both fell under the water and swallowed water. Emma high-fived him, laughing as she spat out water.

After some time they made their way back up to the others. Tim ran through the sand and grabbed a bottle of water, drinking from it greedily. Emma stopped in front of Paul and grinned. "The water is great, you should join us," she said. Paul smiled at her, squinting his eyes. Emma kneeled down on the blanket next to him. "Take that off, nerd," she said and knocked of his cap. She leaned in, dripping water over him, before pressing a quick kiss against his lips.

"Ew!" Tim yelled, laughing smugly before singing, "Emma has a _boyfrieeend_!"

"Leave your aunt alone," Tom said. Emma fought a smile. He didn't normally refer to her as Tim's _aunt._

"I'll come and swim," Paul said, getting up and pulling off his t-shirt. He walked slowly into the water. Emma followed him. He stopped when the water reached his waist. She tried running towards him and jumping onto his back. He swayed, but managed to flick her off, so she fell into the water.

"Paul!" she hissed when she resurfaced. "You're going down!". She wasn't going to let this beanstalk win over her! She pounced on him again, this time knocking him into the water. Paul let out a small shriek as the cold water wrapped around him. Emma threw herself away from him and began to swim so he couldn't catch her. He let her go, instead paddling around on his back, looking at ease.

Later, she was stretched out on the blanket, dozing off as the sun dried her. She wasn't sure how long she had been lying there, but she couldn't hear the others talk any more. When she lifted her head, only Tom was left, also looking asleep. Emma grabbed her water and sipped it, before looking down the beach. She could see Paul and Tim walk along the edge, clearly deep in conversation. Her heart swelled so much in her chest, it almost started hurting. Tim pointed at something, and they went over to it, inspecting it.

Emma got up and ran after them. "What are we looking at?" she asked.

"Tim found a seashell and this rock," Paul lifted two things up to her. The rock was split open, so the smooth middle was visible. The colors inside were a bluish grey, and it was quite pretty.

"Wow that's cool," Emma said, "good eye, kiddo."

"We're gonna give them to Mom," Tim said with a little smile, "Paul said it was okay and that he didn't want the rock."

"Thank you, Paul," Emma said, fighting the thickness in her voice.

"He also promised to teach me _Settlers of Catan_!" Tim declared happily, "I'm gonna show Dad my stuff." Then he grabbed them and ran off.

"Ah, shit, now he is gonna beat me at Settlers too," Emma said.

"I keep telling you that you're too impatient," Paul said, "you do risky moves to get back at me instead of thinking it through."

"Shut up," Emma told him as they walked back, "I can't believe you're gonna turn my nephew against me in Settlers. The betrayal."

Paul shook his head. They reached Tom, who was looking fondly at Tim and what he had found. "These are great, kid. We can stop by on the way home if you want?"

"Yes!" Tim said "can we get ice cream after?"

"Sure thing," Tom chuckled.

"Aren't you going into the water?" Emma asked Tom.

"Nah, I like just looking at it," he said.

" _Daaad_ ," Tim complained. Emma picked up some playing cards and they all played a few rounds of _Go Fish!_ while they ate snacks. The sun was moving lower on the horizon, and she knew the trip was coming to an end. They packed up and Tim hugged her tightly before saying goodbye. Then he gave Paul a quick hug before skipping over to the car.

"This was fun," Emma said. As usual she hadn't bonded much with Tom, but since Tim liked Paul, she saw this as a success.

Tom nodded. "Good meeting ya," he said to Paul. He turned to leave, and then he came back over. "You know, it's good grill weather. Maybe we could have dinner at our place sometime soon?"

"That would be great! I'd love to! Yeah!" Emma nodded. She could feel Paul's hand on her arm, giving her a supportive squeeze.

"We'll be in touch," Tom nodded, before walking after his kid, who was bouncing by the door. Emma turned around and smiled at Paul.

"Wow!" she said. She combed a hand through her hair, which had dried in clumps.

"That went well!" Paul said.

"Really?" she couldn't help herself, and she gave him a disbelieving look, amusement playing at her lips. " _we're intimate?"_

Paul immediately grimaced. "Please don't!"

"I should thank you, I am sure my nephew appreciates knowing we've banged," she continued teasing him. He wasn't going to live this down anytime soon.

"He - well - I panicked," Paul spluttered, beginning to walk over to the car, before turning around and facing her again, "he probably doesn't even know what _intimate_ means in this context!"

"Probably not." Emma rolled her eyes, "I'm just glad Tom didn't hear it."

"I'm sorry," Paul said, red in the face. They stopped by the car. Paul cleared his throat. "I am sure your nephew appreciates knowing we haven't put a label on it yet."

"Shut up, Matthews," Emma told him, sliding into the driver's seat. He laughed.

"I like him, he's a sweet kid," Paul said when he was seated next to her.

"Yeah," Emma said fondly. Paul and Tim getting along meant more to her than she could put into words.

That night they cuddled up on the couch with beers and a movie playing in the background while they kissed lazily. Paul had a few freckles on his cheeks and nose from the sun. Emma traced them with her fingertips.

"So," Paul started, "when will we put a label on it?"

Emma laughed and kissed his jaw. "Gimme a few more months and then we can talk about it."

"Deal," Paul said, leaning back and giving her access to his neck. Emma sucked on the soft skin for moment.

"Who needs labels anyway?" she mused, sneaking a hand under his t-shirt. Paul's response wasn't very coherent. Emma chuckled and lifted her head so she could look at him.

"You're really fucking hot in your bikini, have I told you that?" he said.

"You haven't," she said, "but thanks".

He smiled, creating crinkles around his eyes. "I'm all in, Emma. I hope you know that."

"Are we playing poker?" she deflected. Paul rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

"I just wanted to say it," he murmured, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She felt goosebumps spread down her neck and arms. Her heart thumped against her chest. She kissed him deeply, holding onto him tightly. He smiled softly. She settled against him, closing her eyes.

All in all, _dating normally_ meant being in a relationship.

"Paul?" she said after a moment, not opening her eyes, "me too." He held her a little tighter and kissed the top of her head.

A really fucking good relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S OVER??? i'M GONNA CRY.
> 
> Note: Yes, the rich lady is Linda and the bit about her and Nora is a nod to lilfinch's genius fic [Adore Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23305951/)
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS FIC. I LOVE YOU. IT WAS TOUGH TO END IT. I can never thank you enough, truly!!! <3<3<3


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